Black Butler in the 20's
by FakeName13
Summary: If Black Butler had occurred in 1920s New York. After Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive, is forced to leave England, he stumbles into New York's criminal underworld with the determination to unravel all of its secrets. But can he succeed when everyone seems to be working against him, particularly crime lord Sebastian Michaelis?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

 _Warning: This story contains numerous OCs._

 _Some information might be historically inaccurate._

 _I own nothing._

 _All a mistake._

Ciel Phantomhive stared sullenly at New York Harbor, particularly the practically brand-new Statue of Liberty, which the ship was getting closer and closer to with every minute. He had seen photographs of Lady Liberty—she was supposedly a symbol of freedom, symbolizing new hope for new arrivals, but he had always thought that her face had an expression of, _"oh God, not_ another _load of immigrants."_

Well, it didn't matter what he thought about it anyway. He was here, in New York, and now nothing could change that.

 _All a mistake._

His aunt, Madam Red, didn't share his same pessimistic views on the whole thing. She had spent the whole trip running around the ship, talking to the crew, flipping through travel books and brochures, excitedly making plans for what they would do once they would finally arrive in the States. She was standing next to Ciel, leaning against the railing, pointing at the Statue of Liberty.

"There it is, Ciel! In the flesh! Darling, aren't you just so _excited_?"

 _All a mistake._

His aunt must have noticed his expression because she sighed and turned to him with a half-impatient, half-worried look.

"Now, Ciel, I know that visiting New York isn't precisely what you wanted to do this summer, but, at the moment, what with the situation in England, what can we possibly do?"

She was right, of course. It wasn't at all fair, but she was still right. It was all just a mistake—a huge, stupid mistake that had cost Ciel his summer and had heavily damaged his relationship with the monarch of England—just a mistake, but what a mistake it was. Even now, Ciel could conjure up his nemesis' face and could still cheerfully strangle him.

Some idiot—it didn't matter who it was—thought that he could usurp Ciel's noble position and, even worse, his job as the so-called "Guard Dog" of England's criminal underworld. Naturally he had failed, but the whole incident had caused a huge scandal, so huge that the King had "suggested" to Ciel that he take a vacation in the States—far, far away from England—until everything would blow over. Unfortunately, it was never easy to calculate when such scandals involving the aristocracy would "blow over." Ciel could be spending a week in New York or the remainder of his natural lifestyle.

Ciel took the opportunity of having Madam Red's back turned to stick his tongue out at Lady Liberty as they passed. Then he immediately drew it back in again. It didn't seem dignified; worse, it was _childish_. He mumbled something to Madam Red about lying down in the room and stalked away.

The deck was full of people—Englishmen on vacation, Americans returning from vacation, the occasional rich immigrant…Ciel pushed and shoved his way through the throngs of people, muttering pardons and biting back swear words.

"Did you hear?"

"Oh, isn't it just _awful!_ "

"Three people murdered!"

"Just like that!"

"You think the underworld had something to do with it?"  
Ciel paused. Paused, turned, sidled up to the group, which consisted of five or so Americans, with the man in the middle gesturing to the newspaper in his hand.

"Don't be ridiculous," another man snapped at the woman. "As if the underworld would have something to do with something so trifling. The underworld's into _big_ money—really, really big money. They wouldn't waste their time with just three random joes on the street."

"The underworld?" Ciel butted in, scooting close to the man with the newspaper. "There's a criminal underworld in New York?"

The man scoffed.

"Kid, New York's where the poor go to get rich and the rich go to get richer. Of _course_ there's an underworld here. A horrible, horrible underworld which cute little kids like you don't want to get involved in."

"Give me details; I want details," Ciel said, taking the newspaper out of the man's hand and flipping through it. Sure enough, it was full of rumours about the mafia, about crime lords, illicit drug deals, illegal alcohol, secret bars; every page was a report on some form of sin. He began to get an odd feeling in his stomach—tinges of excitement. He could still succeed. He could do in New York what he had been doing in England—become the guardian of the underworld. Maybe, if he cleaned up the place enough, the King would have no choice but to let him back into the country. He could do this—become renowned world-wide.

He returned the newspaper back to the man, thanked him, and walked off to find his aunt.

"Ciel! There you are. Didn't you say you were going back to the room? What is it? What's happening?"

Ciel gestured for Madam Red to bend down and whispered into her ear. She straightened up, again with her half-worried look.

"Ciel, I thought that we would put all that underworld business on hold until we'd return to England," she sighed. "I wanted to have fun in New York! See the sights, take a break from all the messiness! Don't tell me you want to do the whole thing _again_?"

"There should be a police force in New York, right?" Ciel asked. "We'll contact them once we get settled into the hotel. I want to know everything."  
Madam Red rolled her eyes and marched to their room to get all of their things packed. Ciel leaned against the ship railing, now impatient to land and get started with his new work. They had passed the Statue of Liberty already; Ciel turned to look at her. She was far enough away so that he couldn't see her face, but as he recalled photographs of her, he decided that, in certain lights, she could indeed look a little happy. He winked at her as the ship passed (although, due to his eye patch, it didn't look like much of a wink) and couldn't suppress a smile.

" _Soon,"_ he thought, turning to the New York shore, _"soon my life will once again begin—right where it left off."_

 _"The Earl of Phantomhive?"_

 _The man threw the newspaper aside with a careless gesture, indicating how low in importance he considered the news._

 _"Merely another aristocrat, trying to make a quick buck—just like all the rest of them. Just like us. Nobody of importance."_

 _The man on the other side of the table shook his head._

 _"With all due respect, Boss, this one is different. In England, he's known as the 'guard dog'—the guardian of the criminal underworld."_

 _"'Guardian of the criminal underworld?'" the man laughed. "Can you even hear yourself? How can someone be a guardian of the criminal underworld? The underworld isn't guarded by anyone, earl or not. It's just another title granted to another noble to make him feel more important—happy peasants are less likely to revolt, you know."_

 _"I know, but…I still think we should look into him, just in case."  
The man scoffed and stood up, turning his back towards the other man and facing the huge map of New York pinned to the wall, marked with flags and Xs and covered in circles and scribbles._

 _"The Earl of Phantomhive. Pure drivel. Another imbecile trying to gain control. Perfectly ridiculous. Everyone already knows who's_ really _in control—us. Or, to be more specific…"  
"You, Boss," the man said. "Everyone knows you're on top."_

 _"The Earl of Phantomhive," the man mused, leaning against the wall. "An Earl. Of Phantomhive. An Englishman. Curious…"_

 _He glanced at the newspaper on the table. Its headline was_ "MURDER AT BROOKLYN _"; its subheading was_ "Earl from England. _"_

 _"Look into this Earl," the man said. "I'm intrigued. Someone who thinks they can control the underworld—control_ me _? I_ am _the underworld. His first stop, naturally, will be the New York Police," he continued, turning to the map and tapping the spot. "Where's that one spot that the police always go to—Hickey's or something?"_

 _"Bernie's, sir."_

 _"Good! Call them up and secure a spot—between two and eight should be sufficient, I should think. No one ever talks of the underworld in daylight."_

 _"But sir, it's difficult to get a reservation at Bernie's. It's a popular spot—booked three months in advance."_

 _"Then make a spot. Bribe someone. Shoot a gun off. It's not hard for people like us to get what we want. And…" He sat back down at the table, eyes glistening: "Tell her…something French. I'm in a French mood tonight."_

 _The other man bowed and left the room, leaving the first man musing at the map, smiling to himself._


	2. Chapter 2

The police were not particularly pleased to hear from Ciel, let alone meet with him and talk, and he knew why the moment he stepped into the room.

"Good evening, Lord Randall. I didn't know that you were in New York."

Lord Arthur Randall, police commissioner of Scotland Yard, stood up with a frown and grudgingly offered Ciel his hand.

"Lord Phantomhive," he growled. "I should have known. Everytime there's a case, you always turn up, just like a bad penny." 

"Now that's hardly fair," Ciel said. "I was only aware of the presence of an underworld yesterday—and the fact that there's a case less than two seconds ago." 

Randall's eyebrow twitched. He did not look pleased at all.

"Is that…Ciel?"

Ciel peeked behind Randall and smiled—or the closest thing he ever did to a smile, which was really just the corners of his lips spazzing upwards.

"Fred Abberline," he said, extending his hand. "Today truly is my lucky day."

"What are you doing here?" Abberline asked, shaking the Earl's hand in confusion.

"Recent, completely inconsequential events have forced me to vacate England temporarily. I decided to travel to New York on vacation when I heard of the underworld and decided to investigate. Why? What is happening?"

"We've…" Abberline began and was promptly cut off by Randall's glare.

"None of your business," Randall said. "We can take care of it all by ourselves. You are not necessary."

"Now, now," Ciel said, taking a seat and making himself comfortable. "I've answered your questions; now answer mine. Firstly, what are you doing here?"

Abberline waited until Randall's surly nod before speaking.

"After the whole Phantomhive incident, the general public wasn't so impressed by Scotland Yard's performance. We were told that it would be best if we were to leave for a brief period of time. After hearing about all the crime and catastrophe in this city, we travelled here to investigate."

"So there is a lot of crime here? Interesting! What are the details? I would like to help."

"We don't need your help," Randall said.

"Well, actually…" one of the American officers tried to say.

"I _said_ that we don't _need_ your _help_."

"But he could be useful," Abberline argued. "After all, he knows more about the underworld than we do. He practically lives there. He could give us a hint or two; help lead the investigation along."

"Besides, it's not as if _you're_ making any significant progress anyway," the American officer said, scowling at Randall.

Randall looked as if he wanted to argue; paused; shot daggers at Ciel, and restrained his fury.

"So, Ciel," Abberline said, smiling at the young earl, "have you been to any clubs lately? They're all the rage here. We've just been introduced to a new one—have you heard of it—Bernie's?"

"No, I haven't," Ciel said, restraining his excitement at being introduced to a new case, "but I'm more than interested in going. Shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

Madam Red had always told Ciel to be objective, to always keep an open mind. And Ciel always tried to do so. But even open-mindedness couldn't save Bernie's—the place, to put it mildly, was a dump.

The floor was dirty, sticky, and muddy. Raucous, offensive women shrieked with laughter and slapped men in indecent places. The men were no better: they smoked and cheered and yelled at the poor waiters to bring out another bottle. The place reeked of stale cigarette smoke and cheap liquor.

"But I thought that there was a ban on alcohol?" Ciel asked as they pushed their way to a table, close to the stage of the restaurant.

"There is," Abberline said. "Buying, selling, or having any sort or form of alcohol is illegal. No one knows where these people are getting it, but we assume that M provides it."

"M? Who's M?" Ciel said as they all sat down—himself, Randall, Abberline, and the American officer, Inspector Goodwin.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Goodwin said, digging through his satchel for a couple of files. "M is a crime lord—and a damned good one at that. No one knows who he is or where he's at or what he looks like—all we know is M. M could even be a woman for all we know. The person is a sheer enigma." 

A waiter arrived with menus, silently deposited them, and then vanished into the haze of smoke and sin. Ciel grabbed a menu and began flipping through it: nothing particularly special, just cheap bar food, some suspicious drinks that looked as if they contained some form of liquor, a list of performers with exotic, fake names:

Freddi Blues

Woman in Red

Carly Sings

Angel

Kissin' Sweet and Freaky Pete

Mother Gosling

Lady Black

Karlotta

Diva Divine

Sven

Nobody important. He set the menu aside and began flipping through the files that Goodwin had pushed across the table. Names, as unique as the performers', flashed in front of his eyes:

Krisno

The Brawleys

Spears

Longitis

The Yorricks

Landers

The Roswells

The Watergates

Mr. Bunni

M

Ciel paused at the last file: M. That initial again. Who was M?

"Why is M so important?"

"We're not sure," Abberline confessed, "but we know that he's involved in a lot of things—big, evil things."

"So? So is everyone on this list. They're all crime lords, aren't they?"

"True, but M is the top dog. All of these people are kings of the underworld, but M is the Ace. You name it, he's involved in it."

"Alcohol?"

"In it."

"Drugs?"

"In it."

"Prostitution?"

"Let's not get carried away," Randall interrupted while Goodwin nodded "yes." "Let's just say that he's very…important. And we don't know anything about him."

"Find out, then," Ciel said, suspiciously examining his water glass. "Don't you have disguised police officers? Use them. Find out things. If he's alive, he can be found. If he's dead, he can be found. If he's real, he can be found. If he's imaginary, he…"

"Alright, alright, we get it," Randall said coldly. "No matter what, he can be found. But it isn't so simple."

"Oh? And why not?"

"We have reasons to believe that M has spies everywhere, just like the police," Goodwin whispered. "Even in our police force. We're not sure, but it's definitely more than possible. Even this conversation might not be confidential…He could be listening in _right now_."

Everyone looked around suspiciously. Ciel glanced around too, wondering why the police so frequently visited such a dive. He cast a cool eye on the stage—some heavy woman who might have been a man at some point was finishing a screechy attempt at an operatic solo.

"The point is," Goodwin continued, "is that we know nothing about M while he can know everything about us."

"I find it extraordinarily difficult to believe that the police know nothing about someone," Ciel said calmly. "Even Scotland Yard knew a thing or two about the most mysterious criminals."

"What do you mean, 'even?'" Randall said but Goodwin cut him off.

"Well, we do have three suspects; three people who _might_ be M. Take a look; all their information is in that file."

Ciel began flipping through the file until he came to a man's profile. Meanwhile, some busty woman and a weedy, rat-like man got stage and began cracking jokes.

The man in the profile was a big, stocky man with greasy hair and a feeble attempt at an intimidating mustache. Other photos in the profile showed him wearing classy suits, smoking cigars, and always surrounded by beautiful, scantily-clad ladies.

"George Morris," Goodwin said. "A recently-wealthy businessman who spends all of his money on unnecessary luxuries and women. A suspect because his last name begins with M, all of his riches came to him suddenly without any warning or explanation, and because there have been rumours that he runs several businesses on the side—mostly illicit gambling."

"So why not arrest him?" Ciel asked, daring to take a swig of water and promptly spitting it back into the glass.

"I told you, it's not that easy. M is too clever. Morris is a lascivious nitwit but he is also a respectable businessman. He hires architects and builds skyscrapers. He pays for the city's clean streets. He has a lot of good friends in high places. We can't just waltz in there and arrest him on little-to-no charges—we'd be turned out into the street!"

A woman dressed in a modest, figure-concealing dress stepped out onto the stage and began singing a French ballad. Ciel turned to the next profile, which showed a twiggy, nervous man, dressed in the finest Italian suits, ruined by numerous rips and stains.

"Joe Mayfield. Recently suffered a nervous breakdown. His hospital bills were miraculously paid off and his luck just kept on increasing. A suspect due to his last name beginning with M, an increase in wealth despite him not really doing anything, and the fact that an ordinary guy like him could suddenly get so wealthy. It's suspicious, not including that he always stutters when we talk to him but can speak just normally in the company of his richer, stranger friends. Just one big oddball. And the last one:"

Ciel turned to the last profile. A man dressed like an exaggerated German appeared on stage and began to yodel like a strangled animal. The man in the profile was smirking at the camera, dressed in a simple pinstripe suit with a white fedora. He looked elegant but not overbearing, intelligent but not arrogant. The enclosed photos showed him dining with classy rich people, taking walks in the park, watching New York Harbor from a hotel balcony.

"Sebastian Michaelis," Goodwin said. "He's been an aristocrat for quite some time, but there have been rumours that he's been getting most of his money from illegal means. He's a quiet man who keeps to himself—just shows up for the occasional dinner party; arrives late and leaves early. He's surrounded in mystery, but what is revealed is always simply stellar." Goodwin leaned back in his chair with a wave of a disconsolate hand. "Proper businessman; invests in steel and automobiles. Gives the occasional party; surrounded by women but is always a true gentleman. Regularly gives to charities; has started numerous shelters for abandoned cats and stray kittens; about five years ago he began to donate to the poorer districts of New York—orphanages and such. No matter how hard we try, we can't dig up any dirt on him, save for one piece:" Goodwin leaned in. "Hates dogs with a passion. Once unsuccessfully petitioned to have all the dogs in the country sent to Antarctica. Caused quite a stir; didn't come to anything; scandal shortly dropped and practically disappeared entirely. He's a suspect because his last name begins with M, there've been rumours of his illegal dealings for as long as he's been alive, and—I hate to admit it—he's just too _good_. Have you ever had that feeling, your Earlship? The feeling that someone must be bad because they're just too wonderful?"

Ciel shrugged and pocketed the menu.

"What are you doing?" Randall asked irritably. Ciel shrugged.

"My aunt wants to tour all the finest clubs and restaurants in the city; I figured that I would help her."

"Well?" Abberline said impatiently. "What do you think? Who's the most likely suspect?" 

"I'm not sure," Ciel said, frowning at the M file. "I think that the best route to take would be to have me interview all of them, one at a time, starting with Morris. Are there any other good clubs around? Ones that a successful, rich man would like to go to?" He shuddered looking around the club that he was in.

"I've heard of one," Abberline said slowly. "The Gilded Rose? It's supposed to be simply incredible; the napkins are woven out of gold thread."

Ciel nodded.

"Then that's where I'm going. Good evening to you, gentlemen. If I may please take this file, I'll interview all of these men and let you know my findings." So saying, Ciel took up the M file, nodded to the men, and shoved his way through the disgusting throngs of people to get outside and finally breathe in sweet fresh air.


	4. Chapter 4

_"The Gilded Rose?"_

 _The woman nodded._

 _"That's what they said. They're going to be interviewing George Morris at the Gilded Rose."_

 _"Just Morris? All of them?"_

 _"No, just the Earl. Yes, just Morris."_

 _"Good. That makes things simpler."_

 _The man stood up and approached the map on the wall, circling the Gilded Rose with a red pen._

 _"Have you made the reservations already?"_

 _"Yessir."_

 _"Good. Pay the club a visit. This Phantomhive is getting more and more intriguing by the minute. Something…Italian. After all, isn't the Gilded Rose an elegant place? Go make them cry, sweeting."_

 _The woman bowed and strode out of the room, humming something under her breath. The man sat back down and examined the map._

 _"Undertaker."_

 _"Yes Boss."_

 _"Refresh my memory: Morris is the one with the illegal casinos in Queens?"  
_

 _"Yessir."  
_

 _"Queens is my territory."_

 _"Indeed it is, sir."_

 _"He should have stayed in Manhattan—no, according to our agreements, he_ has _to stay in Manhattan."_

 _"But we can't do anything about it now, Boss. From what she said, this Earl is hell-bent on discovering M. Getting rid of him while only bring about more suspicion."_

 _"Or it'll make it more fun."_

 _"I'd advise against it."_

 _"Killjoy," the man said and walked back the map, flipping a coin as he went. Tsink—Tsink—Tsink…He circled certain spots in Queens, marking them with GM. His eye drifted to Manhattan._

 _Tsink—Tsink—Tsink…_

 _He flipped out a switchblade from his pocket and violently stabbed a mansion in Manhattan. When he removed the knife, all that was left was a hole._

 _"I've had my eye on George Morris for a long time now," he said calmly. "Veering into my territory, stealing my money, giving crime a bad name…"_

 _"What will you do?"_

 _"What will I do? Simple. I'll let his Earlship have his fun with our dear friend George Morris, and then, once he's perfectly satisfied…" The man slid the edge of the knife blade across his neck, smiling._

 _"You'll kill him then?"_

 _"Clearly. Such rudeness cannot go unpunished for long."_

 _"What about the Earl?"_

 _"What_ about _the Earl? In the end, he's only a child. We'll have a bit of fun with him; pull him along by the strings; make him dance to a nonsense song…And then, once we've grown tired of him, or if he becomes too inconvenient for his own good…We'll get rid of him."_

 _"He'll notice the sudden death of Morris."_

 _"We'll be doing him a favor, then: reducing his suspects to only two: Mayfield and Michaelis. He'll thank us in the long run. They always do."_

 _"There are too many risks."_

 _"Live a little. Don't I always know what I'm doing? It's been ages since I've had a real challenge—New York has grown boring. For all of us. Don't you want some entertainment?"_

 _"He's only a child."_

 _"He's a pesky child, and if he's a clever child, he'll very quickly learn not to interfere with us."_

 _The other man thought for a bit, then began to smile._

 _"I have faith in you, Boss. I'm behind you—one hundred percent all the way."_

 _The first man smiled back and they shook hands._

 _"When will we get rid of Morris?"_

 _"Let's wait until after our darling Earl has conducted all three interviews—give him that nice feeling of security and superiority, as if he's actually doing something worthwhile."_

 _The man yawned and collapsed into his chair._

 _"She should be arriving there by now."_

 _The second man checked his pocket watch._

 _"The Earl and Morris should get there about five minutes after she does."_

 _"Good. Punctuality is very important."_

 _The second man bowed and left, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. The first man stood up and went to the window, looking out at the streets of New York, flipping his coin and catching it._

 _Tsink—Tsink—Tsink._


	5. Chapter 5

The Gilded Rose was much nicer than Bernie's. The air was sweet and cool; the napkins were indeed made out of golden thread; there were fountains and a huge stage with real curtains.

George Morris was late. Ciel accepted a menu from the waiter and flipped through it. Its meals were nicer and more expensive than those at Bernie's. Madam Red might be interested.

A page fell out of the menu: a list of performers for the club. Ciel quickly scanned it:

Christine Jewel

La Bella

Tony Green

Red Woman

Lady Black

Christian Orator

Kali Ma and the Dancers of India

Carousal

More exotic than the ones at Bernie's and probably more expensive. Ciel folded up his menu and tucked it into his shirt. Madam Red would probably want to see it.

"Lord Earl of Phantomhive?"

Ciel looked up in response to the thick, oily voice.

"George Morris, I presume?"

The man smirked and sat down heavily across from Ciel. The chair groaned under his weight and Ciel resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. Morris did not smell nice.

"I got your phone call yesterday," Morris said, settling in comfortably as if he owned the place, "and I must admit that I was quite pleased at attracting the attention of an Earl. I'm part Earl myself, you know—on my mother's side."

"Oh really? How fascinating," Ciel said, trying not to laugh. "And what's on your father's side?"

"Irish, mostly," Morris said, waving his hand. "Low class. Best not to mention it. Let's talk about you. Or, to be more specific, why I'm of such interest in you."

"We-e-ll," Ciel hemmed. "It's a bit of an awkward topic; I do hope you won't be offended."

"Nonsense; I can take anything," Morris said, slapping his stomach good-naturedly, making the fat jiggle.

"Have you heard of M?"

Morris had ordered something vile-smelling in a glass and had just taken a sip when he spewed it over the table.

"M-M?" he stuttered. "M? Haven't heard of him. Nope, no sir, not me. Not at all. Why? Are you involved with him? Does he want something?" Morris leaned in with a hunted look in his eyes. "If you're trying to threaten me, sonny boy, let me tell you right now that it's not going to work."

"Threaten? No, not at all, I merely…"

"I don't know nothing," Morris babbled on, fiddling with his napkin and promptly dropping it. "You hear me? Nothing! Those casinos ain't mine; it's a huge scam I'm telling you; I swear to God I'm innocent! I don't know no M! Good day sir!"

Still rambling to himself, Morris stood up, quickly shook Ciel's fingers and darted off, remarkably agile for a man of his age and size, leaving Ciel alone and confused. He began tapping his fingers on the table to the beat and realized that while he and Morris had been talking, a woman had ascended the stage and was singing mournfully in Italian. It was a beautiful song; she had an amazing voice. Not much for looks though. She was thin, thin like a skeleton, and horribly pale, with black hair and blue eyes. The blue eyes were about her only attractive appearance: they were large and deep and intense, with long lashes. Ciel watched her for a time, musing over his conversation with Morris. The man definitely knew something and he definitely wasn't of noble birth—his voice at the end gave him away; no proper gentleman would have even dreamed of using such a coarse word as "ain't."

No, Morris definitely knew something about M. Even if was M, he was still somehow involved in crime. He had mentioned casinos—gambling? But he said that they weren't his.

The woman on stage finished her song, bowed, and strode off silently. Ciel regretted seeing her go; she truly did have an amazing voice. Quite a lot of people at the nearby tables were crying. As she went, Ciel got a glimpse of her shoes: incredibly high heels, with the heels sharpened into dangerous points. They didn't look at all safe or even cheap; she must have saved a fortune to buy them. That or someone bought them for her. It was possible; he had heard of chorus girls whoring themselves for rich young men.

He had made quite a splash with Morris; he doubted that he would be as pleased to hear from him again. The police might have more luck with him, but Ciel hadn't even mentioned the police. Morris seemed remarkably twitchy on the subject of crime; it was probably best not to approach him for a while.

That left either Mayfield or Michaelis. He mentally conjured up their photos in his mind: Mayfield seemed like a twit, but a weak twit. He'd probably be easy to crack open and get information from. Michaelis seemed like a man of intelligence, which was both good and bad: he might know more, but it would be more difficult for him to reveal the information.

He'd go with Mayfield. After Morris, he didn't feel up to a big challenge—not yet, anyway.

He paid for the menu, for his glass of water, and for Morris' drink and left the Gilded Rose.


	6. Chapter 6

Same time, same place. The menu of the Gilded Rose hadn't changed since the last time he had been there, but the list of performers had:

Cindy Mary Bates

Potter and the Putters

Lady Black

Spinx'n

Cowbois and Alienz

Sandra Witches

Red Lady

Surprisingly, Joe Mayfield was already waiting for Ciel, nervously twisting his napkin and spilling his water glass when he rose up to shake Ciel's hand.

"G-Good e-evening L-Lord Ph-Phantom-h-h-hive," he stuttered. "S-Such an h-honor to m-meet you."

"Good evening, Mr. Mayfield," Ciel said, already dreading this meeting. "Shall we get down to business?" 

Mayfield nodded.

"Y-Yes, l-let's."

He sat down, this time upsetting the silverware. Ciel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'll get right to the point," he said, leaning in after pocketing the menu, "are you M, the famous crime lord?"

Mayfield's eyes widened, which was quite impressive, as they were already buggy enough.

"M-M? M-Me? N-Never! I-I've h-heard of him, c-certainly, b-but I-I'm n-not h-him."

"Do you have proof that you're not? Real, definitive proof? You're one of the suspects, you know." 

"O-One of the sus-suspects? Wh-Who are the o-others?"

"George Morris and Sebastian Michaelis."

Mayfield's head bobbed up, eyes sparkling, with the beginnings of an anemic smile.

"M-Mich-a-a-lis? I kn-know h-him! H-He's h-here r-right n-now, h-here to watch h-his girl sing!"

"Here? Right now? Really? Where?" Ciel whirled around, trying to locate the third suspect when Mayfield's words really hit him.

"'His girl?' He has a girl? Where? Who is she?"

Mayfield gestured to the stage.

"R-Right th-there, s-s-singing."

Ciel looked at the stage. A woman dressed in a modest, form-concealing dress was singing a song in Russian. She had a beautiful voice but wasn't one for looks; Ciel wondered where he had seen her before…

She adjusted one of her legs, revealing one of her high-heeled shoes and Ciel remembered her.

"I've seen her here before!" he hissed to Mayfield. "She was here yesterday! Why's she here again?" 

Mayfield nodded knowledgeably.

"Th-The w-word on the st-street is that sh-she's M-Michaelis' _p-pet_ ," he whispered. "N-No one e-else c-can g-get cl-close t-t-to her. H-He's a-apparen-t-t-tly v-very _p-p-protective_."

Ciel gestured for a waiter.

"You, man. Is Sebastian Michaelis present at this restaurant?"

"Yes indeed he is, sir."

"Could you…" Ciel removed one of his business cards and scribbled something on the back of it, "please deliver this to him? Tell him that it's important and that it's from an earl."

"Certainly, sir."

The waiter took the card, bowed, and walked off. Ciel followed his movements.

He stopped at a table with five men, whispering to each other and laughing. The men were so different from each other that Ciel almost thought that they weren't even of the same party. One of them had long, silver hair which was constantly getting into his brilliant green eyes. He laughed the loudest and kept on pushing his hair back, revealing scars. The second man was tall, probably taller than the rest of them, and looked foreign, with tanned skin and grey eyes. The third man was blonde with stubble and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. The fourth one was huge and muscular, with sideburns and an unpleasant expression. The fifth one was partially hidden by darkness but Ciel could see that he was wearing a pinstripe suit. He laughed and thudded his cane on the floor with mirth but he was also restlessly flipping a coin, as if something vexed him. It was this man who received Ciel's card. He looked at it, flipped it over, read what was written, laughed, and presented it to the other men, who laughed as well. The fifth man, still chatting with the others, pulled a business card out of his suit, wrote something on it, and handed it back to the waiter with a dollar bill and a couple of words. The waiter bowed, turned, and strode back to Ciel with the card.

"Lord Michaelis respectfully presents you with this message," the waiter said and left.

Ignoring Mayfield, who was unsuccessfully trying to read over his shoulder, Ciel read the front of the business card:

 _Lord Sebastian Michaelis_

 _Nobleman. Investor. Odd-Jobs._

 _"Odd-jobs,"_ Ciel thought, turning over the card. _"Rather an unusual pastime for a lord."_

The back of the card had been written on with neat, elegant handwriting:

 _To Lord Phantomhive,_

 _The New Moon Club._

 _8:00_

 _Best wishes,_

 _Michaelis._

"Wh-What i-is it?" Mayfield whispered, as if scared that the card was something dangerous that would bite him.

"An invitation," Ciel mused. "Rather, an order. Where we shall meet tomorrow to discuss things."

Ciel frowned at the enigmatic Michaelis, who was extending a hand towards the singer who had just descended from the stage. She curtsied to the men and allowed her hand to be kissed by the man in the pinstriped suit. He saw his card being presented to the woman, who frowned upon reading it. She said something to the man, who laughed and pulled her close. He whispered something into her ear and she nodded a couple of times. When he released her, she straightened up and looked directly at the Earl of Phantomhive.

Ciel gasped. Those blue eyes were not at all friendly; they bored into his soul and were not pleased by what they had found.

He blinked; the woman had vanished and then men were still laughing at the world at their table in the Gilded Rose.


	7. Chapter 7

New Moon Club was a dark place where people sat around in secluded tables and talked to each other in quiet voices. Unlike the other clubs, there was no feeling of comradery or invitation to stand up and talk to someone else, ask them what they had ordered and if they sold insurance. Everyone knew their place and to infringe on that was disgusting.

Ciel Phantomhive found Sebastian Michaelis in the corner of the club, talking over his shoulder to the four men sitting at the next table. When Ciel got close, they all stood up, revealing themselves to be the men that he had been talking with at the Gilded Rose.

"Earl Phantomhive," Michaelis said, smiling and shaking his hand. "How nice to meet you. These are my men: Undertaker, Agni, Bardroy, Wolfram. My girl—Eleanora Black. You probably know her by her stage name: Lady Black."

Ciel shook hands with all of Michaelis' men and jolted. The woman who had been at the Gilded Rose—the singer with the blue eyes and the high heels—was standing next to Michaelis. She politely shook the Earl's hand but Ciel got the feeling that she wasn't pleased to meet him. They all sat down and Eleanora was obscured by the shadows—that was how he had failed to notice her.

Michaelis said something in a strange language to the waiter, gesturing first at Ciel, then at Eleanora, and finally at himself. The waiter bowed and disappeared, going to the next table filled with Michaelis' men.

"So, Lord Phantomhive," Michaelis said, sliding his gloved finger over the rim of his water glass, "why did you express such an ardent desire to talk to me? I must admit that I'm quite flattered to have been noticed by such a person as an earl, and I can only hope that our meeting will be only about good things."

"Not…exactly," Ciel said, a bit unnerved by his cool demeanor and perfect smile—a smile that seemed too good to be genuine. "I'm actually here because you're one of the suspects of being a crime lord—have you heard of him?—M."

"M?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow, amused. "What an unimaginative name for a crime lord. You'd think that he'd go with something more memorable, like Black Cat, or Don." He laughed and kissed Eleanora's hand. Her facial expression never changed; she still looked like a combination of bored and displeased. Ciel wondered what their relationship was—Goodwin had said that Michaelis had always been nothing less than a perfect gentleman in regards to the fairer sex; he was still single and seemed to want to keep it that way; he never flirted with ladies or made any bold move to pursue them; they all chased after him, enchanted by his good looks, debonair attitude, and money. But perhaps even the chastest man could fall off the wagon—Ciel didn't see anything physically attractive about Eleanora, but she seemed intelligent enough. Perhaps Michaelis was charmed by her aloofness. That or her eyes. Love was a strange thing, after all.

"So you think that I'm M, the crime lord?" Sebastian said, snapping Ciel back to their conversation. "It wouldn't surprise me; I've been accused of being far worse. Isn't that right, sweeting?"

Eleanora did a small, barely-perceptible nod and looked at the Earl of Phantomhive using only her eyes. Ciel cleared his throat nervously. He wasn't an anxious child, but something about Eleanora unnerved him. She reminded him of a snake—harmless upon first sight, but make one wrong move and you're dead.

"Lord Phantomhive?"

"Ah—yes? Yes, that's right. We think that you're M. If you can provide any evidence to the contrary, please do so as soon as possible and your name will be cleared immediately. Until then, I'm afraid that you'll remain a suspect."

Sebastian sighed and turned to Eleanora.

"What is this world coming to?" he asked her. "The police are politely asking suspects for information. Back in my day, if you were a suspect, you were arrested. And if the crimes suddenly stopped, that just proved your guilt. Much quicker and more effective. These humans have become softer over the ages."

He smirked and kissed Eleanora's hand again.

"We're not soft," Ciel said. "We can't just go in and start arresting rich businessmen. That would put us out of business. It's not that simple."

Sebastian scoffed and waved his hand.

"Everything's simple, if you only find the most obvious solution. Have you read 'The Purloined Letter?' Fascinating story, and so applicable too. The most simplest solutions are always right in front of us; humans, in their vast and bottomless arrogance, are convinced that the only way to show off is to take simple problems, make them complicated, and then solve them in the same manner. I am always surprised if anything ever gets done; sometimes I marvel at how humans ever invented the wheel."

Ciel bristled at Sebastian's casualness at insulting the human race. As if he wasn't human at all, just a stranger finding amusement at the ridiculousness of a lower species—a professor laughing at the antics of an ape.

Michaelis checked his pocket-watch and rose, smiling.

"I'm afraid that the time has come for me to depart, but please do contact me for anything. I'm always willing to assist in the progress of justice."

His men behind him snickered while Sebastian gave Ciel another of his business cards.

"Good evening Lord Phantomhive," Sebastian Michaelis said and left the club, surrounded by his men with his arm over Eleanora's shoulders.


	8. Chapter 8

"I suggest that we go back to Morris."

Abberline and Randall looked up from their work.

"Excuse me? Didn't you say that Morris didn't want to talk to you anymore?"

Ciel shrugged.

"I said that it was a possibility. But I don't care anymore about politeness; I want to talk to him, and so I'm going to talk to him."

"Clearly, you're a man who gets what he wants," Randall said sourly.

"But what about Michaelis?" Abberline asked. "How did your meeting go with him last night? You've been awfully quiet about it…"

Ciel sighed and sat down across from Abberline.

"Michaelis is…different. He had a British accent. He's not from New York, is he?"

"No, he's not. He moved here several years ago. Why do you ask?"

"His manner is…different. I've never met another human like him before. He acts as if he's superior, but he's not arrogant about it. Like it's just a fact and nothing can change it, so everyone just has to live with it. He talked a lot about how humans are stupid. He has a lot of friends though—I talked with my aunt about him; she said that everyone in New York liked talking about him; speculating on his habits. He treated me a bit like a child, but he had a woman who he seemed fond of."

"A woman? We know nothing about a woman. In social gatherings, Michaelis has never paid much or any attention to women—or men. He's always enjoyed sticking to himself and being alone."

"Well, he has a woman. She sings at clubs. I don't know what he sees in her; she seemed a bit creepy to me; but it doesn't matter. The point is I want to go talk to Morris again. In fact, I'm going right now." He rose and made his way for the door. Abberline stopped him.

"You mean you're going to just waltz your way into Morris' mansion? I don't think that that's a good idea. You saw how he reacted to you. He might have bodyguards, bodyguards with guns. He might shoot you."

"Shoot me? I'm an earl. He's a lowly nouveau-riche. If he kills me, it'll cause a huge scandal. He'd be arrested immediately. Put on Death Row. He can't do anything to me."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"You? Why?"

"Because someone should protect you," Abberline said firmly. "I don't trust that George Morris and I don't think that it's right to send child—even if that child is an earl—alone to the villain."

"We don't even know yet if he's the villain," Ciel commented as he got his coat and hat, "but I don't really care. Come if you want to; I won't make any significant effort to stop you."

So saying, Ciel and Abberline went to George Morris' mansion.

It was a huge, gaudy place that seemed to focus more on flaunting one's wealth than of having an actual purpose. Ciel and Abberline were allowed to enter with no fuss at all, but as Abberline had predicted, Morris had a lot of bodyguards, all of which were armed.

Morris himself was in his office, surrounded by scantily-clad beautiful women. They giggled when Ciel and Abberline entered and whispered to each other. Ciel ignored them, but Abberline was still young in the ways of business and was clearly flustered by their promiscuity.

"Ah, Lord Phantomhive!" Morris shouted, waving his arm around grandly. "Please, please; come in and sit! Pardon the mess; Gertie! Clean this mess up!"

One of the women immediately darted forward and began clearing things up, winking at Abberline, who blushed even more violently. Ciel ignored everything and sat down in the first available chair.

"I do hope that you'll pardon my rudeness during our last meeting," Morris said, lighting a cigar, "but I've recently been aware of some bad news and I was worried that you were in some way involved with it."

"That's quite alri…" Ciel said and trailed off, looking in shock at someone standing behind Morris, massaging his shoulders.

"Ciel? Is everything alright? What happened?" Abberline hissed into Ciel's ear. "What's going on?"

"That—She's—What—" Ciel choked out, shakily pointing at the woman. Abberline followed his finger; he was staring in shock at some skeletally-thin woman with a blank expression. Abberline wondered what made her so special; the other women in the room were infinitely prettier, but she had nice eyes. Morris also looked at where Phantomhive was pointing and started to grin.

"You like her?" he said, slapping the woman on the rear. "Just got her this morning. Said that she was tired of working for her employer and heard that I'm a better boss. Fancy that!" He grinned like a spoiled idiot and pinched her cheek. "Imagine perfect Michaelis being a bad boss!"

"M-Michaelis?" Abberline said. "She used to work for Michaelis?"

Ciel kicked Abberline in the shin and hissed into his ear:

"That's her; that's the woman. That's Michaelis' woman!"

"You don't say?" Abberline straightened up and stared at her in amazement. She kept her head modestly lowered but her eyes blazed like fire. "I…I'm speechless, really."

"Yeah," Morris said, looking at Eleanora admiringly. "She's a pretty piece of ass, isn't she? Boy, I can't wait to get her in bed; Michaelis will be livid with jealousy! And let me tell you, it's never a bad thing to have Michaelis in a bad position. Always keep the upper hand, my boy, always keep the upper hand!" He shook his finger at Ciel in a fatherly manner and laughed uproariously.

"So, about this whole M business…" Abberline tried to say.

"M? Who cares about M? You think that I'm M? Why on earth would I be a crime lord? Look at me! I've got it all! Power! Looks! Fame! Money! Bitches comin' out the wazoo! Michaelis' prime strumpet is massaging my shoulders! I've got it all!"

"I must admit, I'm quite impressed at having gotten Miss Black," Ciel said, looking at Eleanora intently.

"Who?"

"…Michaelis' woman."

" _Ex_ -woman," Morris corrected. "And let me tell you, she ain't cheap. You know that Michaelis used to pay her five hundred a day? And paid for her house and her food? I've got to pay her eight hundred just to keep her around! What's this world coming to when a man has to pay eight hundred bucks for a woman?"

"Yes, disastrous," Ciel said sardonically. He rose to his feet; Abberline followed his example. "I've heard everything I want to know. Thank you for your time, Mr. Morris."

"Anytime! Please, come again! I'm always happy to get on good terms with an earl. And the police! You know my father was once the head of police? Must have that same sense of justice running through my veins, eh?" And Morris laughed raucously; the women around him laughed too.

Ciel noticed that Eleanora rolled her eyes.

"Well, I must confess, I didn't think that men like him still existed in this world," Abberline said in the car as they were driving back to the police station.

Ciel was pensive, looking out the window.

"My Lord?"

"Hm?"

"Do you agree? What did you find out about Morris? Is he M?" 

"I doubt it, but I'm not completely sure. He seems like too much of a moron to be able to plan grandiose crimes and get away with them. You saw him today: he 'got' Michaelis' woman and now he's as happy as if he had sense."

"You don't think Michaelis' woman really works for him, then?"

"You saw how he treated her: like a prize. Michaelis didn't treat her that way. He treated her like an equal—he treated her the same way that he treated himself. And you saw how displeased she looked with the whole thing. I think that she's too smart to leave a respectful employer for a bigger paycheck. But then again, I'm not sure. People are too irrational to know what they're thinking."

Abberline directed the car to a nearby restaurant. While they ate, he tried to make conversation, but Ciel was thinking too deeply to be bothered. Once they finished eating and were back in the car, Ciel pulled on Abberline's sleeve.

"Let's go back to Morris' mansion; I have a few more questions I would like to ask him."  
It was already pretty late, but Abberline willingly turned around and drove back to Morris' mansion, still lit up and impressive as an overpriced wedding cake.

They stared at it for a few minutes and were about to get out of the car when there was a gunshot.

Followed by three more gunshots.

Followed by a woman, dressed only in a sheet, leaping out a window, landing on the ground with a roll, springing to her feet, shooting a gun at her pursuers, and then running down the street with her high heels over her shoulder.

They could hear Morris shouting from another window: 

"Catch her! Catch her, you twits! If Michaelis saw that she's been wounded, it's hell for us all!"

Some bodyguards ran out of the mansion and began pursuing the woman. A couple more ran out and dragged several bodies back into the house.

Ciel and Abberline exchanged looks. Then Abberline pulled away from the house and they went home.


	9. Chapter 9

She was sitting on a couch, drinking some coffee and irritably scooting away from anyone who tried to approach her with bandages, antiseptic, another cup of coffee.

"Eleanora?"

She jolted and whirled around.

"Boss," she said, relaxing. "I'm sorry; did I wake you?"

Sebastian Michaelis sat down next to her on the couch, looking at her with concern.

"Never mind about me; I heard that you've been shot?"

"Just in the arm," she assured him. "Nothing major."

"And a bullet grazed her leg," the Undertaker said, earning himself a first-rate glare from Eleanora, "and she's covered in bruises."

"Bruises? Where?"

"Mostly on the rear. Some on the breasts. A couple on the cheeks."

"Where did you get such unusually placed bruises?" Sebastian asked calmly, turning to Eleanora. She shrugged and went back to her coffee.

"Morris pinched me too hard."

"Pinched you? He pinched you? In such places?"

His face and his tone were almost serene, but his reddish-amber eyes had started to turn a dangerous shade of pink.

"I _said_ that it was nothing major."

"Does it hurt a lot, darling?"

"No. It stopped hurting." She took another look at his expression and quickly added, "If it ever hurt at all. I've felt worse. It doesn't hurt at all. Never did. I'm fine."

"Did you get proper medical treatment?" He directed the question at Eleanora but looked at the Undertaker.

"She accepted the bare minimum; she won't allow anyone to get close to her."

"Hmm," Sebastian mused and stood up, pacing the room. Everyone watched him. An attendant came in and offered Eleanora another cup of coffee, which she accepted; not because she wanted another cup but because she thought that it might calm him down a bit.

He paused at the window and looked out at New York.

"I heard that you saw the Earl there?" 

"Yes, he and some police officer. They were not impressed by Morris; I think he's in worse trouble than he was before."

"So it's only a matter of time before he gets arrested."

"Undoubtedly they'll report all this to the head honcho at the police station. I would be surprised if Morris wasn't in jail by tomorrow night."

"So we have to move quickly."

"Y-Yes," Eleanora said, and fell silent. "Boss," she said quietly after a pause, "what are you planning on doing with the Earl?"

"With the Earl? Why?" He turned to look at her with a smile. "Are you starting to feel sorry for him?"

"He's just a child."

"Eleanora, out of all the child-haters in this world, you are by far the most empathetic. It would be quite oxymoronic if it wasn't so amusing."

She bristled at his words and glared up at him.

"Forgive me for failing to see the logic in killing a little boy," she said sarcastically. Sebastian smiled, walked over, ran his hand through her hair.

"Don't worry about the Earl," he assured her. "I'm not going to hurt him just yet."

"But you are planning on doing so?"

"I will, if he gets too interfering." He noticed her expression and sought to amend it. "Eleanora, my sweet, I sincerely doubt that the Earl would ever become a legitimate threat to me. If I was a betting man," here he shared a smirk with the Undertaker, "I would bet all of my money on his safety."

She looked up at him.

"Promise?" 

He smiled and kissed her hand.

"Dearest, have I ever lied to you before? Now get a doctor in here. I want everything to be checked and double-checked and triple-fixed. Don't give me that look; it's for your own good you know," he said to Eleanora, who had stuck her tongue out.

"But I don't _want_ a doctor."

"But sweetest, you _need_ one. And after you've been properly examined and medical assistance has been properly given, you're to stay here, where you'll be safe. I don't feel comfortable with you going out tonight. Morris is a twit, but he's a powerful twit. He might have his men scouring the city for you; I want you to stay here. How much have you seen of his mansion?"

"Not a lot, but I've seen enough."

"Good! While the doctor is looking at you, you can go with the Undertaker and help him plan the best way into the house." He began to leave the room but paused at the door. "Eleanora?"

"Sir?"

"When you got here, they said that you were dressed in only a sheet—and you were naked. Did Morris…do anything to you? Did he try anything?" he asked coolly.

The Undertaker looked at Eleanora; she was planning her words carefully.

"He wanted me to have sex with him," she finally said, "but before he could try anything, I had already whipped my gun out and was making my escape."

Sebastian nodded.

"One thing I envy about humans," he said, "is how excellent they are at lying."

"I'm not lying; he didn't do anything to me."

"Then explain your black eye."

Eleanora sucked in her breath and gently touched her right eye, which had turned a marvelous shade of purple.

"He might have…gotten a bit upset…when I didn't do what he wanted," she said quietly.

Sebastian nodded.

"That," he said, "is all I needed to know."

And he left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

George Morris was in his office, sulking. He had been tricked. The girl—Michaelis' favorite whore—had tricked him. He should have known. He should have known the moment she had walked in: flattering him, batting her eyelashes, opening every door, asking where this-and-that was, how many guards did this hallway have, seeming to memorize everything. The humiliation of it all, the downright _humiliation_! What did he do to deserve such disrespect? He hadn't done nothing! Perhaps he could have lived with the shame of it all if he hadn't punched that little bitch. She had been refusing, asking to use the restroom, blatantly disobeying him, so he gave her a tiny punch in the eye. And then he saw her foot flying at him and when he woke up, he was on the floor and hearing the girl putter around his room, dressed in a sheet, whispering to herself, "heels; my heels…"

He had charged at her again and she had swung at him with her shoes. The pointy ends cut his cheek; he could be scarred for life! But of course nobody thought about _him_.

And then she had jumped out the open window, shot at a couple of his guards, and had run off. Back to Michaelis. Back to her _real_ boss.

Morris buried his face in his hands. He was so furious he didn't even know what to do with himself. But under that anger was—he hated to admit it—a healthy dose of fear. The girl had marks all over her body indicating abuse. She had been shot at; he had seen the sheet turn red as she ran. Michaelis would not be pleased with him.

Well, screw him! He was George Morris! King of the city! He could handle an angry Michaelis. What would he do—offer him tea and give him salt instead of sugar? The man was about as threatening as some brat's butler. He looked like a butler too—tall, elegant, gentlemanly…What could a butler do to him?

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away," Morris shouted, lighting a cigar with trembling fingers. He was so focused on his work and how he was not afraid, not afraid, not afraid, that he almost didn't hear the second knock.

"I said _go away_!"

A deathly silence fell over the manor. Morris realized how quiet it was. Shouldn't there be some sort of noise? A maid, cleaning something? A bodyguard, asking if he wanted anything? A woman, coming in to comfort him?

But no, it was all silence. Which is how he was able to clearly hear a couple of men whisper to each other on the other side of his door.

"I said _GO AWAY_!" he screamed, tossing his stapler at the door.

There was yet another silence. Then the door was kicked down and at least twenty man ran in and surrounded him. Big men. Men with guns.

"Wh-Who are you?" Morris squeaked. "H-How did you get in here? Who let you in?" 

Another man entered the room, less bulky than the other ones, not holding a gun.

"Knock, knock," he said cheerfully. Morris turned as white as a ghost.

"M-Michaelis," he whispered. "M-M…"

"The very same," Sebastian said, sitting down across from Morris and straightening the doodads on the table between them. "What—you didn't think that you could make a mess of my property and not have consequences, did you?" He smiled at Morris while his men chuckled evilly.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Oh, I think you do." Sebastian stood up and began circling the desk, circling Morris. He stuck his hand in his pocket and brought out a coin, which he started flipping to himself.

Tsink—Tsink—Tsink…

"You break our contract. You build illegal casinos. You build casinos on my territory. You tried to seduce my men to work for you. You tried to seduce my girl. You treated my girl in the most disgusting manner possible. You beat my girl. You shot my girl. You tried to cozy up to the police, to the other factions, for protection. You tried to get them to break more contracts. You tried to start a war between us. That's quite a list, isn't it?" He never stopped smiling. The coin never stopped flipping.

"I-I…I n-never…"

"You n-never what?" Sebastian mocked. "You sound like that fool Mayfield. Do you deny everything? But I have witnesses. I can take this to a court of law. I can win. You can lose. You can go to prison."

"Oh, yes; let's do that!" Morris said, clapping his hands beseechingly. "P-Please, Michaelis, I'll do anything!"

He stared at Sebastian who was examining the pictures and the photos on the walls. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at a photo that showed Morris surrounded by a bunch of girls on a beach.

"Casinos…" he murmured, returning to the desk. "Casinos…Gambling. You're a gambling man, Mr. Morris?"

"N-No, not at all! I know that gambling is your thing; I know how they're all divided among the four families; I know all of it; I didn't do a thing so _please_!" Morris babbled.

"But apparently you _are_ ," Sebastian said, ignoring everything that Morris had just said. "If you weren't, you wouldn't have placed casinos on my territory." He smiled at him. "One thing I marvel at humans is how they're always looking to push the boundaries to satisfy their own arrogance, and when the time comes to pay the piper, so to speak, they immediately try to fix all of their mistakes in the span of a few minutes. Such greed! Such egotism! Such cowardice! Humans can be _so_ interesting; don't you agree?" His men nodded and chuckled again, leering at Morris.

"M-Michaelis…"

"I'll tell you what," Sebastian turned to face Morris again, "since you're a gambling man, why don't we play a game? Why don't we gamble for something? I'll choose this coin," he said, holding up the coin that he had been flipping to Morris, "my favorite coin; I found it the moment I stepped off of the boat into this country. I'll flip this coin once—only once, mind you—and you'll call it. If it lands on the side that you call, I'll let you live. If not, well then…" he gestured to the men around, "I'll just allow my friends to do what they do best, hm? Sound fair. You have a fifty-fifty chance of living, you know," he assured the trembling Morris, and then flipped the coin, much higher than usual.

Morris was in a panic; he realized that the coin was falling down and then he blurted _"HEADS!"_

The coin landed in Michaelis' hand, who slapped it against the back of his other hand. Everyone craned to get a look at the side the coin had landed on. Michaelis slowly lifted his hand and smiled. The men leaned back and began grinning at each other.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Sebastian clicked his tongue in mocking disapproval, holding out his hand, "I guess you aren't such a gambling man after all, Mr. Morris."

The coin showed tails. Morris fell to his knees.

"P-Please, p-please; I'll do anything, I'll do _everything_ ; I won't do nothing ever again; just let me leave; just let me live; I'll leave the state; I'll leave the country; I'll be your personal slave; I'll apologize to your girl; I'll never darken your doorway again; I'll fix everything with the other houses; I'll do anything; so _please_!"

The men had been loading and locking their guns. All twenty of them were now pointing at Morris' head. Sebastian began to leave the room.

"You know why you never would have made it as a gambling man, Mr. Morris?" he called over his shoulder. "You're just not lucky."

The door closed behind him; Morris screamed out, _"HELP!"_ ; there was a sound of twenty guns firing at once; Sebastian began to leave the mansion, whistling.

He ignored all the bodies of the guards that were just lying around the place. They wouldn't bother him again. No one in this mansion ever would.

He left the mansion and got into his car. The Undertaker and Agni turned around from the front seats.

"So? So? How'd it go?"

Sebastian smiled.

"It went well. We played a game. I won."  
They nodded.

"Good, good. Where to, Boss?"

"Oh, let's go home. It's late and I'm a bit tired. It's been a very exciting evening for us all."

They nodded again and faced front. The car started and pulled out of Morris' mansion, heading back to Michaelis' home.


	11. Chapter 11

"George Morris is dead?"

Ciel Phantomhive looked up from M's file.

"What? But how? We visited him last night; he was alive last night; what on earth happened?!"

Abberline looked a bit uncomfortable.

"No one really knows. There aren't any witnesses."

"No witnesses? How can there not be any witnesses!"

"Everyone in that mansion was killed."

Ciel stared wide-eyed at Abberline.

"Killed."

"Yes."

"They've all been killed."

"Yes. Well, no. All of Morris' women had been locked in a windowless room; they all made it out just fine. They said they didn't hear anything, except they once heard Morris scream for help, a really loud gunshot, and then someone whistling."

"How can people hear nothing and then a really loud gunshot?"

"We assume that the murderers put silencers on their guns, and then removed them to kill Morris. His body was riddled with bullets; the really loud gunshot could have been twenty guns going off at the same time."

"So all of his bodyguards and servants are dead, all of his women were locked up in a room and didn't see anything, Morris has been murdered…We really have no clues as to who did this?"

"Just one: someone wrote 'M' on the study floor with Morris' blood. And in the ballroom, some of his guards' bodies had been arranged to look like an M."

"So it was M. It was all M."

Ciel rested his cheek on his hand.

"Do the other two suspects have alibis? Reasons why they couldn't have committed the crime?"

"Does it matter? Even if they weren't present at the scene, they could have easily ordered their men to do the job for them."

"But why now? Why kill him now?"

"Maybe because he knew that Morris was very quickly going to be arrested?"

Ciel paused.

"So he knew. So he always knew." He buried his face in his hands. "How could he know? How could he always know?"

"There has to be a spy somewhere. No one can know anything without a spy. A _good_ spy, a trustworthy spy; someone who can get into any situation and out of it; someone who can hear but not be heard, notice but not be noticed; someone who, in a pinch, can fight and escape. But who could it possibly be? Such a great spy would be impossible to find…"

"…Unless they're hidden in plain sight."

Abberline looked up.

"What?"

"Unless they're hidden in plain sight." Ciel quickly found and got out the three menus from the restaurants that he had been to: Bernie's and two Gilded Rose's. He quickly scanned the performance lists: 

"Here! 'Lady Black.' And here again! 'Lady Black.' The spy is Lady Black."

"No offense; but it seems to be just a coincidence."

"Really, inspector? A coincidence that _Sebastian Michaelis' woman_ has been in _every single restaurant that we've been in_?"

Abberline looked as if he had been slapped.

"M-Michaelis' woman?! But that's impossible. Lady Black is just a stage name; we really have no idea who she could possibly be…"

 _"My girl—Eleanora Black. You probably know her by her stage name: Lady Black."_

"When I first met Michaelis in the New Moon Club, he had a singer with him that I had seen before in the Gilded Rose. He introduced her as Eleanora Black and mentioned her stage name: Lady Black. Then we saw Eleanora apparently working for Morris, and, later that night, we saw her fleeing his mansion. And even later that night, Morris was found dead."

"So you're saying that Lady Black is Sebastian Michaelis' spy, and the reason why he's always one step ahead of us?"

"I'm saying that it's more than probable. Think of it: no one really pays attention to singers at nightclubs. And with M's wealth and power, it would be child's play for him to book a spot for her. Then, while she was waiting to perform, she could sneak around and listen in to conversations. No one would notice her. Then she'd sing—and if she knew the song well enough, she could still be able to pay attention to the conversations around her."

"But it's too simple. It has to be a trap!"

"Michaelis also mentioned how easy it is to fool humans. All you have to do is make something so blatantly obvious that it's easily overlooked. No, now I'm positive: Sebastian Michaelis is M, and Eleanora Black is his spy!"

"So how do we apprehend him?"

Ciel smiled and tapped on Lady Black's name on one of the menus.

"I say we follow his spy."


	12. Chapter 12

It was surprisingly easy to find Eleanora Black. One of the police officers on duty said that they saw her coming out of Bernie's nightclub and head to George Street.

"Why George Street?" Abberline had whispered to himself as they waited in a parked car.

"Why not?" Ciel asked.

"George Street is where all the English immigrants go—only the really, really destitute ones. It's the worst part of town to be in."

Ciel didn't answer, as they saw Eleanora step out of a shop. She had a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder and was eating a chocolate bar. Some ragamuffins ran out of an alley and towards her, holding their hands out beseechingly, crying something. Eleanora stopped, smiled, and pulled out a couple of bills from her pocket. These she divided amongst the children and they ran off, laughing and waving at her. She smiled and waved back, but once they were out of sight, her smile dropped and her face again became that stony scowl.

She darted past the car without noticing anything. Ciel and Abberline counted to ten, then exited the car and carefully followed her. She took a lot of detours, ducking into alleys, staying in the shadows, less out of necessity and more out of habit. She moved quickly and easily, as if accustomed to the filth on the streets and the wretched people who tried to grab at her.

Ciel and Abberline had a more difficult time in following her; they didn't move as fluidly as she did and were prime targets for the drunken sods or crying women who clutched their clothes and begged for money. When they finally got out of George Street, Abberline realized that his wallet had been stolen and Ciel was missing his hat and one of his shoes.

Nevertheless, they still trailed Eleanora. She moved less confidently now, spent more time looking up and down streets; she still moved quickly, but now in a rush to get wherever she was going instead of due to familiarity.

They turned a corner and saw the mansion.

It was in a nice part of town, with a huge lawn decorated with fountains and bushes and neat, well cared for flowers. It was rich but not gaudy, impressive without being arrogant. This was the mansion that Eleanora darted up to. Ciel and Abberline carefully followed.

There was a guard at the door. He stood so still that he looked like a statue, but quickly pointed his gun at Eleanora and barked,

"Who's there?! Name yourself!"

"Calm down Bruto, it's just me."

Ciel jolted. This was the first time that he had heard Eleanora speak. She had a British accent, just like Ciel and Sebastian did, but her voice was softer, silkier, colder, and with a bit of a sing-song. The guard immediately straightened to attention and respectfully touched his cap.

"Sorry, Miss Black; didn't realize it was you; can't be too careful, you know."

"It's fine," she sighed and walked up to the huge front doors, decorated with extravagant M's. "Is the Boss home?"

"Yes ma'am; he's been waiting for you; wants to hear all the latest gossip going on at Bernie's."

Eleanora nodded and removed a key from her pocket. She unlocked one of the doors and slipped inside. The door closed behind her with a thud and they heard the lock click.

Ciel and Abberline shared a look. They scurried away from the mansion and to a fairly isolated spot.

"We need more men," Ciel whispered. "That place is probably filled with guard dogs like that big brute at the door." Abberline nodded.

"Let's go and get them right now!" he whispered back. "Eleanora didn't notice us; we'll be sure to catch him off-guard. Then we can arrest him, collect all of our evidence, and in one fell swoop we've caught New York's most dangerous crime lord!"

In half-an-hour a small army of police officers had assembled at the Michaelis mansion, among them Randall and Goodwin. They sneaked into the place until they were all at the front doors. Ciel nodded at Abberline, who nodded at Randall who nodded at Goodwin who nodded back and then shouted, _"CHARGE!"_

The man at the door jolted in surprise and swung his gun at the invaders but before he could shoot he had been tackled by five men and was on the ground, groaning in pain and fury. More men charged at the huge double doors and broke them down and the rest of the officers streamed in, shouting and pointing guns at the very surprised and unprepared guards in the house.

Abberline grabbed a passing man who was trying to run.

"Michaelis, where's Michaelis?!"

"He's taking a bath; he's on the second floor, third door on the left…"

Abberline released the man and six of them—Ciel, Abberline, Randall, Goodwin, and two other officers—ran up to the second floor, burst into the third door on the left…

…Eleanora was pointing three guns at them, two in her hands, one clamped between her teeth.

"Good evening officers," Sebastian Michaelis said calmly. "Lord Phantomhive. For future reference, I would prefer a phone call beforehand, but I suppose that it's a bit late for that now."


	13. Chapter 13

The room was one huge bathtub. Sebastian Michaelis was sitting in it, back to the officers, speaking over his shoulder, infuriatingly calm considering the fact that his mansion had just been invaded. Eleanora was sitting on the rim of the tub, her feet in the water, wearing a bathing suit, soaking wet. Her mouth was a bit occupied with the gun, but her eyes gleamed with hatred.

"You know, I've heard of a recent invention, and I've been using it quite liberally," Sebastian continued. "I really think it will take off. I've strongly encouraged all of my employees to use it, but perhaps you've been too busy to know about it. Have you heard of it? It's called 'knocking.'"

"Can the sass-talk, Michaelis," Goodwin growled. "You must think you're pretty cool, talking so calmly to a lifetime of prison. That is, _if_ you're able to charm your way out of Death Row, which I would say is pretty unlikely."

"Isn't it illegal to enter someone's home without their consent? Don't you need at least a pretty piece of paper?"

"Shut up," Goodwin said, turning a bit purple. "Nothing you say can save you now Michaelis—or should I say, _M_?"

"Oh, perhaps you're right," Sebastian said, still as composed as ever. "Perhaps I can talk up a dictionary and still end up in Alcatraz. But you know what they say: actions speak louder than words."

Eleanora's three guns clicked; apparently she was still able to operate the one in her mouth using her tongue. Goodwin turned a bit pale. Randall stepped forward.

"You dare to threaten the law?! You're surrounded, M. All of your men in this mansion have been apprehended. You're not armed. And it'll be a dark day indeed when justice is intimidated by a cute little girl in a bathing suit."

Eleanora's eyes narrowed.

"Do you have sideburns, Lord Randall?" Sebastian asked, never turning around.

"Yes."

"I've always hated sideburns."

He snapped his fingers. Eleanora fired.

There was a horrible silence as the sound of the gunshot faded. When the smoke had cleared, everyone could see that Randall wasn't injured—but his impressive sideburns had been trimmed several inches by Eleanora's shots.

"I would treat this 'cute little girl' with a bit more respect, Lord Randall," Sebastian said. "She might be the best shot in this whole mansion."

Randall choked out a few unintelligible sounds.

"Mind you, I said 'might,'" Sebastian said cheerfully, standing up. He was wearing a pair of shorts. "Even I'm not really sure. But she's definitely good. She's had a lot of practice. And I think that you'll find that your quaint little army of officers has already been defeated."

Twelve men came from behind them and gripped each of them by their arms.

"But…But how...?" Abberline spluttered, trying to comprehend.

"What—you think that you can rudely intrude into my house without my consent and I wouldn't know about it?" Sebastian grabbed a white shirt from a hook on the wall and pulled it on. "Do you think that I hired Eleanora just for her singing skills? She saw you following her; she thought that she would wait and see what you wanted instead of just killing you in George Street. When she realized that you were going away, she immediately assumed the worse. We've been preparing for this for a half-hour. I'm sorry to say that your men never got past the first room. One hundred men will never be a match for three thousand, after all."

He snapped his fingers.

"Take them away; put them with the others."

The twelve men bowed and began dragging the six away. Ciel saw Eleanora set the guns aside, stand up, and went over to talk to Sebastian. He listened for a bit, nodded, smiled, went to another room. Eleanora began twirling a lock of her black hair and then suddenly looked at Ciel.

Their eyes met.

Then he was dragged away.


	14. Chapter 14

True to Michaelis' words, all of the police officers had been caught, handcuffed together, and were now sitting in the ballroom. Michaelis' men were circling them, every one of them with a gun, and there were more in the floors above. Ciel and the others were chained like the rest of them and dumped onto the floor, then the guards went a bit aways to discuss other things.

"You think we should…?"

"Nah, let's wait for the Lord."

"Man, I'm hungry."

"Some new place opened up on Main Street; heard it's pretty good…"

"Atten _tion_!"

Everyone immediately stood up straight and looked as professional as possible. Eleanora entered the room, wearing her normal clothes.

"At ease, gentlemen," she said and everyone relaxed and continued their conversations, though everyone seemed to keep one eye on her.

Ciel watched her pace up and down the lines of chained officers. He couldn't help but wonder at her story. How did she end up working for Michaelis? You'd think that someone would be opposed to her working for a crime lord, that her parents or her grandparents or her aunt or uncle would protest…

Aunts. Ciel swore quietly under his breath. _Madam Red_.

"What?" Abberline whispered.

"My aunt, I forgot to call her," Ciel whispered back. "She doesn't know where I am. It's past my bedtime; she must be absolutely distraught by now…"

"No talking!" a guard shouted at them.

"I need a phone!" Ciel shouted back. "I need to call someone!"

The guard was about to answer but instead stood at attention. Eleanora walked up.

"What's going on?"

"I need a phone; I have to call someone."

"Really? Who?"

"My aunt; she doesn't know where I am."

"That's kind of why you're chained up—so nobody can know where you are."

"But my aunt! She's probably calling the police right now!"

"All the more reason to keep you here."

"For god's sakes, have a heart!" Ciel shouted. "Do you always want someone to worry after you? She could be having a heart attack! She could be wandering around in the bad part of town, looking for me! She could be dead!"

"Calm down, kid, you're overreacting."

"But it's MY _AUNT_!"

Eleanora pressed her hand against her forehead, gathering her patience. She looked up after a few minutes.

"Your aunt."

"Yes."

"Just your aunt?"

"Yes."

"And your parents?"

"Dead," Ciel said coldly.

"You have no other relations?"

"I have another aunt and her family, but they're all back in England."

Eleanora turned her back on Ciel, thinking. She turned back and said.

"Unchain him. I want to talk to the young Earl alone."

Ciel was unchained and Eleanora began walking away. The guard nudged him to follow her.

She led him outside, to a garden. It was a very beautiful, well-kept garden, with rose trees and fruit trees and colorful flowers growing in their beds…It looked very romantic in the moonlight.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes and then Eleanora started to speak.

"Your aunt. How old is she?"

"How old? Um…I don't really know. She's pretty young…Maybe in her…early thirties?...Or something."

"Any children?"

"N-No."

"Married?"

"Widowed."

"Tragic."

"Yes."

"So you're her only relation."

"Yes."

"I see."

Another silence. Eleanora gently ran her hands over the flowers as they passed.

"I don't have an aunt," she finally said. "I don't have anyone to look after me or worry about me. Nobody cares if I'm late to return home or if I get shot or even if I die. If I dropped dead at this moment, there would be no one to cry over my dead body or mourn my death or go to my funeral."

"What about Sebastian Michaelis?"

"What about him?"

"He seems to care about you."

"He cares about me because I'm a good worker. If I ever quit or got fired, I would be just another of those silly humans he's always marveling at."

"But what about all those hand kisses and 'sweetheart's and all that talk about how you're his girl?"

"I'm his girl because I'm his right-hand woman. He doesn't have another female that he trusts as much as me. Our relationship is strictly professional. He's my boss; I'm his employee. That is all."

Ciel looked up at her to see if she felt a bit sad at this, but her face remained the same and her voice was as collected as ever.

"So you don't like him?"

"What? No. Why should I?" She didn't sound distressed at all; just a bit surprised, as if the thought of her liking him had never occurred to her.

"And he doesn't like you?"

"He trusts me."

"So he does like you."

"'Trust' and 'like' are two entirely different things. He trusts me as a right-hand woman. I can always be relied upon to eavesdrop on conversations, break into houses, shoot a couple people if necessary, and still make a good dinner. He doesn't 'like' me in the romantic sense. Never had, never will. And I like it that way. Romance is such a time-waster."

Another silence.

"You have dreams, kid?"

Ciel looked up at her.

"What?" 

"I asked you if you had dreams."

"I…suppose I do. I think…everyone does."

"I had them too," Eleanora said, looking distant. "I can't remember them, but I remember that I had them once."

Ciel didn't say anything. He wondered where this conversation was going.

"You know what Michaelis will do to you?"

"No."

"He'll interrogate you to see if you can keep it a secret—won't tell anyone that he's M and all that. If he thinks that you can, he'll let you go with a whole lot of threats. If he thinks you can't, well then…"

"Well then what? What'll happen?"

"…He'll either erase your mind so that you can't remember anything, or he'll keep you here forever, or he'll kill you."

Ciel stared at her dumbly.

"…I don't want any of that to happen."

"I'd be surprised if you did."

"But what about my aunt?"

"You really care for her, don't you?"

For the first time she seemed a bit sad.

"Of…course. Any one would care for their aunt. And she cares for me. After my parents' death…" Ciel trailed off and finished with a whisper, "she was the only one I really had afterwards."

"What about your other aunt?"

"She's not particularly…affectionate. It was mostly Madam Red who took care of me and lived with me afterwards."

"Madam who?"

"Madam Red. My aunt."

"You don't call your aunt your aunt?"

"After my parents died, I wasn't particularly affectionate either," Ciel said sourly. Eleanora nodded.

"I know what you mean."

"You mean…your parents died too?"

"My mother did, definitely. I don't know about my father, but I assume that he's dead too. And if he's not, I hope he is. Filthy asshole."

"What happened to them?"

"I haven't the vaguest idea what happened to my father, and I don't really care either way. All I know is that at some point, he got intimate with my mother. Then she had me and took both of us to this blasted country. She got sick on the way (it's a miracle I didn't die), staggered into George Street, dumped me in an orphanage, and then died."

"You never knew her?"

"Never did, never want to."

"Why not?"

"I'm not particularly affectionate, my Lord."

At least her British accent was explained. If she grew up among British people (even the most destitute of British people), naturally she would begin to speak like them. She must have learned how to speak politely from Sebastian.

"How did you get involved with Michaelis?"

"He found me one day and offered me a job."

"And you took it?"

"Obviously."

"When was that?"

"About five years ago."

Eleanora stopped walking and stared up at the sky. Ciel looked up with her; he saw a bunch of stars but failed to see why they were so important.

"You and I are a lot alike, my Lord," Eleanora said finally. "You might not like to think so, but it's true. We both hate people. We both have problems with trust. We've both searched for the person who will never abandon us—the difference is that you've already found her and I still haven't. We both question everything, trying to decide who's good and who's bad and why do they do all this. We both lost a lot of faith in humanity but we're still unwilling to give up on it entirely." She was silent for a moment. "I'll help you get out of here."

"You what? You will? Really? Thank you! But…why?"

"Because you remind me of myself—a less twisted, less bitter, less sarcastic version of myself, but still like me. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if I hadn't grown up the way I did, if I had been given more chances, if I had better luck, what would I have been like? I think that I'd look something like you: still cynical but young and innocent and ready to love again. I see by your expression that you disagree, but believe me, my Lord, it's true. Strangers can tell us more about ourselves than anyone else ever could. So I'm going to help you. Because I feel sorry for your aunt, for that poor woman who loves you, and because I feel sorry for you, for this poor stupid little rich brat, and because I feel sorry for all children like us, for those who just weren't lucky enough."

She stared up at the sky for a little bit longer, then turned and began striding back towards the mansion.

"When we see Michaelis, the best thing for your case is for you to shut up and agree with everything I say. I know that this will be difficult for you, but unless you want to return to dear sweet ol' auntie again, you'll do everything I tell you to do."

Ciel wanted to tell her several things, that she was wrong about him, she was wrong about herself, she was wrong about this plan, but he didn't because Eleanora gave him a look and he realized that the only way out of this mansion alive and intact was through staying on Eleanora's good side.


	15. Chapter 15

Sebastian was in the Cat Room. Ciel had no idea why it was called the Cat Room until Eleanora opened the door.

Cats. Cats everywhere. The whole room was a haven for cats. There were scratching posts and cat gyms and little feathery balls hanging from the ceiling. Ciel felt his eyes water and tried to hold back a sneeze.

"Boss?" Eleanora called into the room. There was a rustling somewhere in the middle of the room, underneath all the piles of cats, and then Sebastian Michaelis sat up, looking very, very happy.

"Eleanora! And if it isn't the Earl of Phantomhive. I thought that I had ordered you to be chained up. Well, no matter. Would you like to come in? It's very nice here. Come in, sit down, grab a kitty!"

"Actually, Boss, I wanted to talk to you about something. Can you come out for a few moments?"

Sebastian stood up, grabbed a random cat, and walked out, petting it and cooing.

"Do you like cats, Lord Phantomhive?" Sebastian asked, holding the cat out to be petted. Ciel took several steps back and sneezed.

"Actually, I'm allergic to cats."

Sebastian's smile seemed a bit plastered on his face.

"…You're what?"

"I'm allergic to cats?"

"Allergic to cats?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" And for the first time, he seemed honestly sympathetic. "That's so sad! I'm so sorry."

"Oh, uh…" Ciel looked to Eleanora for help, who shrugged. "It's…fine?"

Sebastian nodded and continued walking down the hall, every now and then turning to look back at Ciel with a very sad look.

They arrived at a lounge and sat down, Sebastian on a couch with the cat in his lap, Eleanora and Ciel on another couch across from him.

"So? How can I help you? What's the problem?"

Eleanora took a deep breath and looked at Ciel. He could practically hear her thoughts:

 _"Remember: just sit there and say nothing, unless you're agreeing with whatever I say."_

Ciel nodded; he remembered.

Eleanora nodded back and took another deep breath.

"Sir, in all your greatness and glorious merciful wisdom and kindness, please allow this wretched, idiotic, stupid little rich brat of a boy to go home for tonight and visit his dear, sweet, sick old aunt and soothe her torn and wounded heart."

"What?" Sebastian asked, smiling.

"What?" Eleanora said defensively.

" _WHAT?!"_ Ciel yelped and promptly got kicked in the shin by Eleanora.

"You heard me," she said, batting her eyelashes. "Won't you please, _please_ , grant this poor, stupid boy a favor? Think of his darling aunt, all alone in their shack on George Street, suffering from tuberculosis and polio, anxiously waiting for her beloved nephew to return…Isn't it just so _tragic_!" And she began theatrically sniffing and wiping her eyes.

"But…my aunt doesn't have polio…or tuberculosis…"

"Sweetheart?" Eleanora said, turning to Ciel.

"What?"

"Shut up."  
"Oh…kay…" Ciel glared at her; she glared right back and turned to Sebastian, who was smirking at the scene.

"So, Boss, can't you please let him go for a night?"

"No."

"What? But why not? And after Eleanora did all that!" Ciel said. "Don't you have a _heart_?"

"I have one," Sebastian said, stroking the purring cat, "I just choose to save it for things I deem important."

"And my aunt isn't important?"

"Seeing as how I've never met her, no."

Ciel turned to Eleanora helplessly; she shrugged and stood up.

"Wait, you're leaving? _Now_? I thought you said that you would help me!"

"I did," Eleanora said smoothly. "I'm getting the paper."

"Paper? What paper?"

"The paper for our contract," Sebastian said.

"What contract?"

"The contract that's going to get you out of here and keep you alive."

A few minutes later, Eleanora brought out a piece of paper with something written on it in fancy writing. The Undertaker and Agni followed shortly afterwards; the Undertaker had three pens, two glass bowls, and two knives; Agni was carrying a first-aid kit.

"Wh-What's the knife for? What's going on?"

Sebastian took one of the pens—the normal black one—and began writing something on the piece of paper, every now and then looking up to discuss something with the other three. A few minutes passed; he finished writing and handed the paper over to Ciel.

 **The Earl of Phantomhive will disclose to no one save for his aunt who M is.**

 **Should he reveal the information, this contract will immediately be rendered void.**

 **Once the contract is void, Sebastian Michaelis reserves the right to dispose of the Earl of Phantomhive in any manner he seems fit.**

 **In exchange for his silence, Sebastian Michaelis will protect the Earl of Phantomhive from the New York criminal underworld.**

The whole page was filled with such rules and regulations. Ciel wanted to protest; he didn't want to die at all; he looked up to argue and saw Eleanora shaking her head. She pressed a finger to her lips, _shh…_ , and gently touched Sebastian's shoulder. He smiled up at her and kissed her hand. Eleanora smiled back and looked at Ciel pointedly.

He sighed and tossed the contract onto the table between them.

"Fine. I agree to the contract. What happens now?"

The Undertaker gave each person a pen, a bowl, and a knife. Then he, Agni, and Eleanora stood around the table, acting as witnesses.

Sebastian picked up the knife and quickly and deftly slashed his palm. The blood flowed freely into his glass bowl; first the traditional red and then becoming an odd, liquidy black. When the bowl was half-full, he set the knife aside and held his wounded hand out to Eleanora. She knelt down beside him and began treating and bandaging the hand using the first-aid kit. When he was sure that his hand was fine, he kissed hers, picked up the pen, and signed the contract, dipping the pen into the bowl filled with his blood.

Everyone looked at Ciel expectantly.

"I'm not doing that."

Eleanora shook her head again. Ciel winced.

"I mean…do I really _have_ to?"

"You do if you want the contract," Sebastian said, examining his hand.

"And if I don't want the contract?"

"Eleanora, my sweet, there's a pistol in my bedside table; would you be a dear and please go and get it for me?"

"I'll sign; I'll sign!"

"Good boy," Sebastian smirked.

Ciel tremblingly held the knife up to his palm; he couldn't bring himself to cut it. Sebastian snapped his fingers and Eleanora grabbed the knife and quickly slashed his palm for him, holding the hand over the bowl, filling it with blood. When she was satisfied with the amount, she quickly treated and bandaged up the hand and gave the pen to Ciel. He forced himself to sign his name, shuddering at the stark contrast between his name scrawled in red versus Sebastian's elegant signature in black.

"Good," Sebastian said, examining the finished contract. "You're free to go. I imagine you feel a bit weak from losing all that blood; I'll get a car to drive you home. Eleanora, Agni, come with me. We have to discuss our next move. Undertaker…?"

"I'll take him home."

"Thank you."

They left.

The ride home was silent, save for one time when Ciel asked the Undertaker what Sebastian planned to do with the rest of the officers.

"Probably scare them into silence, and then let them go. He'll probably get rid of the most stubborn ones."

Ciel didn't want to ask what "getting rid of" meant.

As he had predicted, his aunt was in hysterics when he got home and demanded to know where he had been and what he had been doing. He told her that he would tell her in the morning and then promptly fell asleep, dreaming of cats and contracts.


	16. Chapter 16

Ciel woke up early; he had had trouble sleeping. He kept on having nightmares—nightmares where cats chased him and Michaelis was laughing in the distance and he had to sign a contract to get out of this living hell only the paper kept darting out of his reach and he saw Eleanora shaking her head at him…

He woke up early and tried to make himself breakfast. The smoke alarm woke up Madam Red and he told her everything that had happened to him last night. Her face got darker and darker.

"Alright, let's go," she said, standing up.

"Go? Go where?"

"Go to that Sebastian Michaelis' house of course! I won't stand idly by and allow him to bully my darling nephew! Hurry up and get dressed. I have one or two things to say to that M character…"

Ciel obediently got ready while Madam Red called a taxi. They arrived at the Michaelis mansion just as the sun was beginning to rise.

"Out of my way, buster, I have a meeting with your boss!" she said to the guard at the door and pushed her way through. He was so stunned he didn't even protest. "Well? Where is he?"

The guard touched his cap politely.

"Second floor, fifth door on the right, ma'am…"

"Then _that's_ where I'm going," Madam Red said and stomped her way up to the second floor, fifth door, with Ciel trotting behind her. Some guards followed them, but they looked mostly concerned about preserving Sebastian's safety than actually stopping Madam Red. Apparently they knew better than to interrupt a woman on the war path. Ciel assumed that they had learned this lesson from Eleanora.

Madam Red arrived at the room the door guard had mentioned and hammered on it with her fist.

"Michaelis, you creep; open up!"

"Uh, miss, the Boss is currently…" one of the guards dared to whisper.

"He's _ignoring_ me?! The nerve of that little punk! Someone open this door this instant!"

"It—It's unlocked, miss…"

Madam Red threw open the door, revealing a huge, rich bedroom. There was someone lying in the four-poster bed. She stomped to the bed, yanked open the curtains, grabbed the blankets, and yanked them off.

Sebastian Michaelis gasped and blinked himself awake.

"What? Eleanora? Kitty?"

"Are you Sebastian Michaelis?" Madam Red demanded.

"Who wants to know?" he said sleepily.

" _I_ do. I am Baroness Angelina Durless-Barnett, but my friends call me Madam Red. _You_ , however, can call me MADAM BARNETT."

"Is that the Earl of Phantomhive?" Sebastian asked, rubbing his eye. "Who is this woman and why is she screaming at me?"

"Why are _you_ still _asleep_?" Ciel demanded. "Shouldn't you be awake, plotting nefarious deeds or something?"

"I had a late night," Sebastian yawned. "And even if I didn't, I make it a point to never wake up before five. What time is it now?"

"Who cares?" Madam Red thundered. "Get your sexy butt out of bed this instant. I have numerous things to discuss with you."

"Where is Eleanora?" Ciel asked. "If you refuse to get up, we can at least talk to her."

"Eleanora makes it a point never to get up before six," Sebastian mumbled, sinking back down into his bed. "And she's not here. And she sleeps with a gun under her pillow. It's very hazardous to wake her up suddenly. She's not tolerant like I am." His eyes began to close.

"'Tolerant?' Who on earth says that you're tolerant? Get up this instant!"

"Trust me," Sebastian said, smiling a bit in his half-sleep, "if I was Eleanora, you'd be playing Desdemona in act five, scene two right about now."

Madam Red backed away from the bed a little bit and looked at Ciel, who shrugged and turned to the guards who had followed them in.

"Where is the Undertaker? Is he awake?"

"Y-Yes, shall I tell him to go to the drawing room?"

"Yes please; we shall meet him there."

So they all went down to the room where Ciel had signed his contract.


	17. Chapter 17

Tea was waiting for them; the Undertaker arrived a few minutes later. He shook hands with Madam Red and sat down across from them, smiling his creepy smile.

"Good morning, Lord Phantomhive and his aunt. How can I help you?"

"I want to discuss the contract," Madam Red said, still a little sulky from her encounter with Michaelis.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing to discuss. The contract has been signed and sealed; nothing can really change it now."

"But how dare he? Forcing an innocent child to sign a legal document without having an adult to discuss it with!"

"He had Eleanora."

"From what I've heard, Eleanora is a maniac who smothers people with pillows."

"She only did that once, and the guy was fine afterwards."

Madam Red just stared at him.

"I couldn't really talk to Eleanora," Ciel interrupted. "She just kept shaking her head at me."

"Good; you should thank her later."

"What? What on earth for? She didn't do anything!"

"She saved your life. Sebastian was seriously considering eliminating you. If you had died, all of his problems and future problems would have been solved. She convinced him not to kill you and instead sign a contract."

"How did she convince him? She just spouted a bunch of lies about me and my aunt."

"The more theatrical she is, the more she wants her favor granted. Sebastian knows this. He was rather impressed by her performance—more importantly, he realized how much she wanted you to live. So he agreed to the contract."

"So I'm safe?"

"For now, yes. If you break the contract in any way, then he reserves the right to kill you."

"But Eleanora will save me again, right?"

"It depends on her mood," the Undertaker said, leaning back in his seat. "Normally, Eleanora saving someone's life is a one-time deal. Only the luckiest—and I mean the _luckiest_ —get her to save their life twice. Saving their lives for a third time is nonexistent."

"In other words, he shouldn't count on this Eleanora anymore," Madam Red sourly.

"Correct. But he'll be fine as long as he doesn't break the contract."

"And can I see this…contract?"

The Undertaker willingly left the room and returned with the contract. Madam Red took it and began reading it. When she looked up, Sebastian and the Undertaker were talking quietly on the couch, drinking tea.

"So?" she said coldly. Sebastian looked up, smiling.

"Please pardon my earlier rudeness; you surprised me this morning," he said, and extended his hand. She hesitantly took it and he quickly kissed it and dropped it. "It is quite an honor to meet you, Madam Barnett. Your nephew talks quite a lot about you—all good things, I assure you. I have never met a boy more devoted to his aunt."

"Really?" Madam Red said, steadily losing her anger and now examining Sebastian with interest. "Well, please excuse _my_ earlier rudeness; I didn't realize that you were such a gentleman."

Sebastian laughed lightly and offered more tea.

"From what my right-hand man tells me, I gather that you're not pleased with the contract?"

"Uh, no. No I'm not. Not at all in fact." She tried to glare at him. "I think all of his options presented to him by you are horrible: sign a contract or die. This is child abuse."

"This is life, my lady," Sebastian said, extending his arms out helplessly. "This is the underworld. What could I do? I have to keep my job and my skin; I can't always worry about the safety of a child. Then nothing would ever get done."

"I want to edit this contract."

"How so?"

"I want the guarantee of his safety; I want to make sure that he'll live. He's all I have, Lord Michaelis."

Sebastian looked thoughtful.

"Suppose I add another clause to the contract," he said finally. "One that guarantees his safety. As long as he meddles in the underworld, I'll protect him. He'll be one of my men. In exchange, I ask for his assistance in whatever I need whenever I want. Is that alright?"

"And if he breaks the contract?"

"Then I can legally kill him."

"And if you break the contract?"

"He can legally tell anyone about me and who I am, and I can't legally kill him—but I can convince others to do so for me. So it's really in both of our best interests not to break the contract."

Madam Red looked at Ciel, who shrugged helplessly. They were stuck. Their hands were tied. Their best and really only hope was to agree to this clause that Sebastian had suggested.

"Fine, add the clause," Madam Red said.

Sebastian smiled and scribbled something down on the contract. He presented it to Madam Red and Ciel, who read it over and nodded. Then he and Ciel shook hands and the contract was taken away.

"I look forward to working with you, Lord Phantomhive," Sebastian said as they were leaving. "Please don't hesitate to approach me for anything."

He smirked as they left. They heard him laughing behind the closed doors.


	18. Chapter 18

They hadn't heard from M for a while. The underworld seemed to have simmered down; no one tried anything big; except for the occasional robbery, all was peace. It was slightly suspicious, but after all that stress with Michaelis, Ciel was grateful for the silence.

Then there was another murder at Brooklyn, bigger than the last one. Ten people, torn up beyond recognition. No one knew who had done it, why they did it, or what weapon was used. People were in a panic. The police pointed their fingers at M.

"You're on good terms with him; go and find out what the hell he's doing!" Randall said to Ciel.

And back Ciel went to the Michaelis manor.

The place was in orderly chaos. The guards, normally so steadfast, looked around nervously and bumped into each other. The halls were lined with stacks of papers. For someone who had never seen the Michaelis place in its prime it looked absolutely normal, but for Ciel, who had witnessed its clockwork beforehand, it was absolutely alien.

He found Sebastian, Eleanora, and his men in a huge room with a large map tacked up to one of the walls. The map had been furiously circled, crossed out, circled again, decorated with scribbles and notes which were then circled and crossed out again.

"I don't care _who_ did it; we all _know_ who did it; I want to know _why_ they did it!" Sebastian shouted into a phone. The Undertaker, Agni, and the rest were also talking into phones, desperately taking notes and gesturing to one another. Only Eleanora looked calm; she was twirling a gun in her hand. She noticed Ciel and winked. Unlike the others, who were panicky and angry, she looked amused.

Sebastian began talking in a strange language; Ciel had heard him speak it before, at the New Moon Club. It was a very pretty language; it reminded him of Latin; only he sing-songed the words. He grew more and more frustrated with the person on the telephone, shouted some more at them, then hung up by crushing the phone in his fist. Ciel swallowed hard. He had never known that Michaels could become so angry.

"Did anyone find him?!" he shouted at his men. "Anyone?"

"No, all of the lines are busy; I can't even get someone to take a message," Undertaker said.

"I almost got through to him, but the line was cut short," Agni said. "So either he doesn't want to talk to us or someone else doesn't want us to talk to him."

Sebastian said something in his language that sounded like a swear word.

"We had discussed this before; he can't just go around killing people like that; we all know that I'LL GET BLAMED FOR IT!" His voice had started out low and then had risen to a shout.

"So you didn't do it?" Ciel asked meekly.

"OF _COURSE_ I didn't do it! You think I'm dumb enough to commit such an atrocious murder in broad daylight? All of _my_ murders are stealthy and aren't discovered until much, much later. The man's a sheer amateur."

"He's a trigger-happy amateur; don't get too upset with him," the Undertaker warned.

"Oh really? What's the worst that can happen to me? He can't do anything to me; I'm the head of one of the four factions; to do anything would spiral this district into chaos, not to mention break about half a million contracts!"

Eleanora calmly stood up and shot off the gun, forcing everyone into silence. They all looked at her in shock.

"I have a headache," she said calmly. "The Earl of Phantomhive and I will take a tour of George Street while you gents try to figure out what's going on."

"I don't want you wandering around George Street," Sebastian growled. "It's dangerous, especially now."

"Oh, boo-hoo; you act as if I've never been in George Street before. It's always the best place to get information. I've got a gun and a kid and my high-heels, I'm ready for anything."

"Eleanora, you—"

"Ta-ta," she said, waving her fingers at him, then she grabbed Ciel and dragged him out of the manor until they reached George Street.


	19. Chapter 19

Eleanora bought a bar of chocolate and a pair of handcuffs in George Street. She broke off half of the chocolate and gave the bigger piece to Ciel. Then they began wandering around, Eleanora humming to herself.

"So, what's going on?" Ciel asked, after he was positive that they were far away from Sebastian and his demonic fury.

"Someone's committed a crime in the wrong territory and broke about a million contracts and nobody knows why and everyone's trying to find out," Eleanora said simply.

"That…made no sense," Ciel said, trying to figure it all out. "What territories? What contracts?"

Eleanora made an exaggerated sigh.

"My Lord, how many districts is New York divided into?" 

"Five…I think."

"And what are these districts?"

"Uh…Manhattan…Brooklyn…I don't know."

"Manhattan," Eleanora said, ticking them off with her fingers, "Brooklyn. Queens. Bronx. Staten Island. And there are four factions that control one of these districts: Demons, Reapers, Angels, and Humans. The Demons control Queens. The Reapers control Brooklyn. The Angels control the Bronx. And the Humans control Manhattan."

"What about Staten Island? Who controls that?"

"Staten Island is a type of neutral territory. All of the factions hate each other and Staten Island is, by law, the only place where they can go to converse and not kill each other."

"And if it wasn't controlled by law?"

"Then Staten Island would be a place where everyone goes to kill each other—that or everyone would ignore it, like the way they all ignore Manhattan."

"Why do they all hate each other? Why Manhattan?"

"The Demons hate the Reapers and the Reapers hate the Demons; the Reapers and the Demons hate the Angels; the Angels would hate the Demons and the Reapers if they weren't such hippies; nobody cares about Manhattan because it's the Humans' territory; nobody cares about the Humans because they're so vastly inferior they're hardly worth mentioning."

"And no faction can interfere with the other factions except in Staten Island?"

"Now you're getting it," Eleanora nodded. "To interfere or enter someone else's territory without permission is, by contract, illegal. It's even more of a crime to invade the territory and do your own business in it…You remember George Morris?"

"That guy that M killed? Yes."

"He was running casinos in Queens when he could only run them in Manhattan. He was breaking a million contracts by doing so, and then, when he was caught, he tried to run to the other factions for help. But it didn't work—Michaelis killed him." 

"And the other factions allowed him to do so?"

"What goes on in Queens stays in Queens. Even if they were against Morris' murder, they couldn't do anything about it. Sebastian was legally allowed to kill him because Morris screwed up in his territory."

"You talk quite a lot about legality and contracts."

"All of the underworld's business in conducted through contracts, courtesy of the Demons. Once a contract is written and signed by the four heads of the factions, then it is law and it can't be broken. If it's broken, then everyone gathers in Staten Island for a trial—but that's only for the really big issues. Most issues are created within territories and resolved within those territories, like Morris and Sebastian. It happened in Queens and was finished in Manhattan—the only two territories who were involved." 

"You mentioned the four heads of the factions…Who are they? Rather, what are they?" 

"The four heads of the factions are the rulers of each of the factions. They control everything in their faction and make all the rules. Sebastian Michaelis is the head of the Demon faction in Queens. William T. Spears is head of the Reaper faction in Brooklyn. Ash Landers is head of the Angel faction in the Bronx…And I forget who runs the Human faction in Manhattan because nobody cares."

"So there's a problem in Brooklyn—all those recent murders—and it's thrown the rest of New York in chaos—and everyone's trying to find out what's going on and putting a stop to it—without breaking contracts?" 

"Basically, yes."

"So did the head of the Reaper faction do it—William T. Spears?"

"I doubt it. He's too sensible for such nonsense, and even if he did have something to do with it, he'd have his reasons and quickly make them known to the rest of the underworld. He hates messiness of any kind."

"You know him?"

"Nice man; I play poker with him sometimes."

"So if the problem's in Brooklyn, why are we still wandering around in Queens?"

"Because we can't enter Brooklyn without permission…" Eleanora trailed off and looked around. She pressed a finger to her lips— _shh!_ —and pressed Ciel up against a wall with her arm, listening. Ciel listened too—at first the noise was faint, but gradually he heard someone walking around in the darkness of George Street, knocking over trash cans, accidently kicking drunken guys in alleys, swearing.

Eleanora again pressed her finger to her lips, indicating Ciel to be silent, then lifted up her dress, revealing long white legs covered in long white stockings, held up by black garters. Ciel blushed. This wasn't decent.

She stuck a hand in her stocking and brought out a switchblade knife. She again made the 'silence' gesture, waited for a few minutes until whoever-it-was was dangerously close, then darted around the corner and attacked.

There were sounds of fighting and grunting and one time someone screamed. Eleanora threw something at Ciel and he caught it—a pair of glasses.

"What…?" he said, but by then Eleanora had pinned the invader to the wall and was holding her knife to his throat.

"Well, if it isn't my best friend Tina, the tiny talking twit!"

"My name is not Tina!" the man snapped, struggling. "Stop calling me that!"

"What are you doing here so late at night, Tina?" Eleanora said, ignoring both his words and his attempts to flee. "And without permission too! Mighty suspicious, Tina. Care to spill a little?"

"I won't spill a word."

"Then you'll certainly spill some blood," Eleanora said and pretended to jab at him. He screamed in fear and then glared at her. She grinned at him.

"Let me go," the man growled. "I have absolutely nothing to say to you. I'm on official business and I haven't the time to chat with rude women like you."

"Official business? Since when does Will allow his goons to wander around Queens all alone without proper documentation?"

"And who says I don't have proper documentation?" the man said, looking a little smug.

"Shall we find out?" Eleanora said and put the switchblade in her mouth. She began searching through the horrified man's pockets, tossing aside little bits and bobbles and finally pulling out his wallet. She rifled through it, smirking at a photograph inside, then removed all the cash and pocketed it herself.

"Hey, that's mine!" the man shouted. "Help, help! Robbery!"

"Help, help!" Eleanora mimicked after she took the knife out of her mouth. "Who do you think is going to help you, sunshine? Everyone within fifty miles hates you Reapers. In fact, you're lucky that I caught you, because anyone else would certainly have beaten you to a pulp already."

"You—You little," the man hissed. "Let me go this instant! I'll report this to your boss!"

"And he'll say, 'well done, sweetheart,'" Eleanora said. "I'm not comfortable with leaving cute little girls like you alone, especially in places like this, but if you insist…" She released him and began walking away. He collapsed to the ground and began pawing through the dirt.

"My glasses! Where are my glasses?" 

"Oh, that's right. Toss them here, my Lord," she said, but she held up a hand, stopping Ciel. Apparently she wanted him to keep them.

The man grinned and lunged, missing Eleanora completely and hitting another garbage can, who he began hitting until he realized that it wasn't the one he wanted. But by the time he had figured it out, Eleanora had already grabbed him and handcuffed him.

"Sorry Tina honey," Eleanora said. "You're coming home with me."

And they made their way back to the manor.


	20. Chapter 20

"So, Tina, why are you—"

" _Don't call me that_. For the last time, my name is not Tina!"

"Then what is it?"

"It's Ronald Knox." 

"Oh." Ciel looked at Eleanora. "How did you get 'Tina' from 'Ronald?'"

"Don't question my life choices," Eleanora said. "He looks like a Tina more than he looks like a Ronald anyway."

They looked at the man in question.

"…No, not really," Ciel finally said.

" _Thank_ you," Ronald Knox said.

"…he looks more like a Brittany or something."

" _WHAT?!"_

"…Or a Rosaline," Eleanora said, getting excited, "or a Paulette."

"Now you both listen to me…"

"What about Ronalina?"

"Ooh! I like that one."

"Now hang on…"

"Ronalinda!"

"Ronaldette!"

"Ronabelle!"

"Will both of you just—"

"Shut up!" Eleanora said, stopping both of them. "Just shut up. Wait…" She removed her switchblade again and quietly crept forward, still holding Ronald by his handcuffed hands. They all waited anxiously, they could hear footsteps, they turned the corner—

"Ciel?" said Abberline.

"Abberline?" said Ciel.

"Eleanora?" said the person holding Abberline.

"Grell," Eleanora said coldly.

"Miss Sutcliff!" Ronald shouted. "Miss Sutcliff! You're here to save me!"

"Oh, is that you, Ronnie?" the person named Grell said. "I was wondering where you had gone. Figures that you got captured by Nora."

"Two Reapers in one night," Eleanora said, slowly moving closer. "This must be my lucky day. What are you doing here? And with a chief police officer?"

"Oh—him?" Grell said, looking at Abberline. "I saw him skulking around here; I thought that he might give me some information." She grinned at Eleanora, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. "Turns out I was wrong, but he might prove useful for…bargaining…"

"Yeah, right. What are you going to trade him in for? Pansy like that—Maybe you'll get two sticks of lipstick and a lollipop."

"Well, you know me—I'm not a choosy woman."

"Except in regards to your men."

"Well, what woman wouldn't be?"

They were circling each other, staring at each other, slowly growing closer and closer together until they were almost touching, then Eleanora spat on the ground and Ronald and Abberline were tossed to the side and the two women leapt for each other's throats.

Ciel ran over to the two men and helped them to their feet, and then they all watched the battle. It was a bit hard to see who was who; it was just streaks of red and black followed by the occasional sound of punching and then a soft groan.

Then there was a bloodcurdling scream followed by another one and the two women separated, Grell clutching her stomach and Eleanora retreating on one foot, nursing the other before collapsing to the ground. Ciel and Abberline ran to her.

"Eleanora! What happened? Are you alright?"

She groaned.

"No…"

"Why? What is it? What happened?"

"My _nail_!" Grell screamed. She held up her hand, revealing beautiful long nails, except one of them had been broken. "Look what you did to my _nail_! I just got these manicured; you know how much that _costs_? And it'll look all gross until it grows back! What have you _done_?"

"Paris…" Eleanora whispered.

"What?" Ciel asked.

"These. Shoes. Were. From. _PARIS!_ " she screamed and threw one of her high-heels at Grell. Technically, it could no longer be called a high-heel, as the knife-like tip had been snapped off. "You think I can just go to any store and pick up a new pair from the shelf? You know how _expensive_ these things are? I can't just go and break a heel whenever I want! Have you no _shame_?"

Grell growled at Eleanora.

Eleanora hissed at Grell.

They charged at each other again.

The battle continued for a couple more minutes and then two blinding white lights shone down on them from above.

"Judgement Day!" Ronald screamed. "Atone for your sins, quick!"

Ciel looked up at two helicopters hovering over them. A rope ladder fell down from each of them and swarms of men crawled down until there were two small armies facing each other. Then two men came down from each helicopter and ran to the fighting women, where they grabbed one and dragged them back to their side.

"Bassy!" Grell said, cozying up to Sebastian. "You saved me!"

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Grell."

"Hello Will," Eleanora said, looking at the man who was holding her. "Good to see you again."

William T. Spears did not look particularly happy.

"Likewise," he growled and they shook hands.

"Sebastian," Eleanora shouted across, "guess what Grell did?!"

"I didn't do anything; she started it," Grell said.

"She broke my heel!"

Sebastian glared at Grell, who flinched under his stare.

"It…was…an…accident?" she said sheepishly.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Sebastian called out to Eleanora.

"Fine, save for my heel."

"I'll buy you a new pair." He turned and stalked back to the rope ladder, pushing along Grell. Ciel and Abberline followed; someone grabbed Ronald and forced him to come along too.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" Abberline asked once they were all comfortably settled (Sebastian wasn't; Grell was practically sitting in his lap).

"Staten Island," Sebastian said coldly. "We have many things to discuss."

"What about Eleanora?"

"She'll meet us there."

"But why'd you allow Will to take her?"

"It's to keep things peaceful. He knows that I won't kill him as long as he has her, and I know that he won't kill me as long as I have his lackeys."

He frowned at Grell and Ronald.

"And why are you here?" Ciel turned to Abberline, who shrugged nervously.

"I was told that M might have some information, but I got lost, and then that redhead found me…"

"So we're all going to Staten Island to discuss what's happening in Brooklyn?" Ciel again turned to Sebastian.

"Correct."

"Will Eleanora be alright?"

"She'll be fine; probably a bit bent about her high-heels, but Will would never seriously hurt her. She'll be fine."

Grell had been sidling up closer and closer to Sebastian; he got tired of it and pushed her off with a groan. He stared sullenly out the window as the helicopter made its way to Staten Island. Conversation slowly died out. Michaelis hadn't been this angry in a long time and no one wanted to get on his bad side.

The helicopters landed on the roof of some club in Staten Island and everyone got out.

"Michaelis," Will said.

"Spears," Sebastian said.

They shook hands although they looked as if they wanted to eat each other. Then they all went down into the restaurant to discuss matters.


	21. Chapter 21

They sat down at a table, Sebastian and his men on one side, Will and his men on the other, glaring at each other. Eleanora had managed to slip away from Will and walked up behind Sebastian, putting her hand on his shoulder. He absentmindedly kissed it, his eyes never leaving Will's face.

"So, Spears," he said.

"So, Michaelis," Will growled back.

"Care to explain what you're doing?" 

"Care to explain what _you're_ doing?" 

"Me? I'm just working, as per our contracts, abiding by all the rules, wondering what you think that you're doing, messing up Brooklyn and ruining the rest of New York for us."

"Likely story. You Demons always have a habit of ruining the most delicate of operations."

"What—you think that _we_ did it?"

"You mean that you didn't?"

"No! Who on earth wants to come in and mess up your oh-so-perfect Brooklyn anyway? Not to mention all the contracts that it would violate…"

Will leaned back in his chair, studying Sebastian.

"So you didn't do it."

"No."

"Prove it."

"I swear on the soul of my mother and the blood of my father and the Unholy Gospell and on the life of Eleanora Black that I did not cause, nor had any affiliation with, the incidents at Brooklyn."

Will frowned at him, then stared off into space.

"Well if you didn't do it, who did?"

"You mean you didn't do it either?"

"Of course not! Why would I possibly order several gruesome murders for no reason?"

"But I thought…" Sebastian said, glaring at Grell, who giggled nervously.

"We all thought that," Will said darkly. "But unfortunately, he has an alibi—and witnesses."

"'He?'" Ciel whispered to Eleanora, who shrugged.

"But if he didn't do it, then who did?"

"Clearly, someone who wants to rip the underworld apart and send the civilian world into chaos."

"So it was Ash Landers!"

"You think so?" They shared a look. "Someone call Landers over here! We have much to discuss with him."

Eleanora and Grell groaned.

"What? What is it? What's wrong with Ash Landers?" Ciel asked.

"You mean besides the fact that he's a perverted hippie maniac? Angela Blanc," Eleanora said.

"Who's Angela Blanc?"

"Landers' woman," Grell said. "I hate her because she's such a goody-goody, always pretending to be so nice and sweet, constantly hitting on _my_ Bassy…"

"I hate her cause she's a bitch," Eleanora said.

"Now girls," Sebastian said, smiling for the first time, "play nice."

"We play nice," Eleanora said, sharing a smirk with Grell. "Just maybe a bit rough at times…"

Grell yawned and stretched, pretending to be casual.

"Well, Nora? Shall we go and welcome Miss Blanc?"

"If we must. After all, it's always important to maintain good relations with the other members of the underworld…"

They smiled again and left, waving good-bye at the other members.

"Will they be alright?" Ciel asked.

"They'll be fine," Sebastian assured him. "If I were you, I would pray for Blanc."

Ciel shuddered at the steely look in everyone's eyes. Apparently, no one was looking forward to discussing things with Ash Landers—and they were all supporting Angela Blanc's meeting with Eleanora and Grell.


	22. Chapter 22

"Well, isn't _this_ a surprise? The head of the Demon house and the head of the Reapers sitting together peacefully, playing poker?"

Everyone looked up at the man who had spoken. He was dressed in an extravagant white suit, with white-blonde hair and purple eyes and a smile that looked both fake and evil. Ciel had thought that, because he was head of the Angel house, he would be nice— _much_ better than Sebastian anyway. But he found himself edging closer to Sebastian, who was looking coolly at the new arrival.

"Ash Landers," he said. "What are you doing in Brooklyn?"

"Me? I'm doing nothing in Brooklyn; at the moment, I'm in Staten Island." He grinned at his men, who laughed at his joke. "Has anyone seen Angela? She disappeared a few minutes after arriving."

"Oh, she's probably with Eleanora," Sebastian said, and all of his men grinned. Landers' expression turned a bit cold.

"With Eleanora?" he said icily. "That…unclean one?"

And suddenly Sebastian had him pinned to the wall by his throat.

"I am not in a good mood," he said, his pink eyes flashing with the pupils diamond-shaped. "I will not stand here and have you ruin my underworld and insult my girl into the bargain. You have exactly ten minutes to tell me what you did in Brooklyn before the Angel faction gets a new leader."

"Is he serious?" He stared blankly at the men in the room. "I'm afraid that I can never tell with him…"

All of the men's faces in the room matched Sebastian's angry, blank look.

"Nine minutes," Sebastian growled.

"William! Surely you won't allow such heathenism and disrespect?"

Even Will looked agreeable to Sebastian's methods.

"Eight minutes."

"This is ridiculous! Preposterous! A plan made by the unclean ones to destroy my purified state of Bronx!"

"Seven minutes."

"Where is Angela? What has your unclean bitch done with my Angela?"

Sebastian's grip tightened.

"Five minutes."

"Shouldn't it be six minutes?"

"Well, it's five now. Four minutes."

"I assure you that I don't know anything!"

"Three minutes."

"Angela! Come here at once!"

"Two minutes."

"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BROOKLYN!"

"One minute."

"WILL! TELL THIS SATANISTIC UNCLEAN HEATHEN THAT I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BROOKLYN!"

"He doesn't know anything about Brooklyn," Eleanora said and Sebastian stopped counting to look at her from over his shoulder.

"How do you know?" he said coolly.

"Miss Blanc told us," Grell said, appearing behind her. "She was very free with her information, especially after she broke Eleanora's heel."

Eleanora looked as if she was about to cry.

"Can we please not mention that?" she whispered. "My poor heel…"

Sebastian released Landers.

"I'll buy you five more pairs," he said, striding up to her and pulling her close. "Eleanora, my dearest, my cleverest, my only…Did you really find out _everything_?"

"Everything that was to be found out, we discovered," Eleanora said, sharing a smirk with Grell.

"Angela would never confess the Angels' secrets, especially to unclean, unnecessary ones like you," Ash said defensively, which earned him a prime glare from Sebastian.

"You'd best retest your woman," Eleanora said. "She squealed like a frightened pig."

"So?" Will said irritably. "What did she say?"

"She said that she's not sure who's been doing it or why, but she does know that Joe Mayfield is involved," Grell said.

"Joe Mayfield? That stuttering imbecile? I don't believe it," Sebastian said.

"Believe-it-or-not," Eleanora said. "Angela was invited to a party by one of Mayfield's friends. These parties are always very suspicious—for one thing, only women are invited, but men are said to leave. There's a rumour going around that the men sneak into these parties and discuss underworld business—apparently Mayfield attends these parties regularly."

"My dear," Sebastian said warmly. "You are an absolute succubus." He kissed both of her hands repeatedly.

"What about me, Bassy? What am I?" Grell asked, batting her eyelashes. Sebastian gazed at her with disgust.

"I'm sure that you don't want to know." He turned back to William. "I'll take care of Mr. Mayfield and these parties. As soon as I discover some form of information, I'll send it to you immediately, so that you can finish the job."

William nodded and stood up.

"Agreed."

They shook hands fairly cordially, considering that they hated each other.

"What about me? What should I do?" Ash Landers asked.

"You can help your beloved Angela to the helicopter," Eleanora said. "I don't think we broke anything, but…"

Landers looked horrified and immediately ran off with his men.

"Come, we should be leaving too," Sebastian said, slinging his arm over Eleanora's shoulders. "So nice to see you again, Spears. Hopefully our next meeting will be a bit more gentile."

William nodded.

"But wait!" Ronald Knox said. "She still has my money!"

"Tough luck Tina," Sebastian said and they left, hearing Ronald shout out from behind them,

"My name is not _TINA!_ "


	23. Chapter 23

They were back in Queens, sitting in the backseat of Sebastian's limo, talking about what they had learned and their next plan of action.

"The first thing to do," Sebastian said, "is to somehow get an invitation to this party."

"That should be simple enough; we have plenty of women working for us," the Undertaker said, "and all of them are pretty. At least one or two of them should get an invitation."

"We only need one," Sebastian said, smiling at Eleanora. "My dearest, you'll be able to handle it, won't you?"

"Need you even ask?" Eleanora rolled her eyes and smirked. "Get into this party. Investigate. Eavesdrop on the secret conversations that these people are having. Steal some party food. Leave. Done!"

"My clever girl," Sebastian said approvingly and kissed her hand.

They pulled into James, the street next to George Street, stopping at an apartment building—not fancy and elegant, like a rich person's apartment, but still nicer than a poor person's place—a decidedly middle-class house. Eleanora got out, her broken high-heels slung over her shoulder.

"Good evening, everyone," she said. "I'll see you at the Michaelis mansion tomorrow, so we can discuss things further."

"I'll tell all of our girls tonight to look out for the invitations," the Undertaker said.

"Take care, darling," Sebastian said, kissing her hand again. Eleanora nodded, smiled, and entered the apartment building. The limo waited until she was out of sight and then pulled away, heading to the nicer part of town, where Ciel lived with his aunt. Sebastian settled back down into his seat and looked thoughtful.

"So, Eleanora…" Ciel started.

"What about her?"

"What's your relationship with her?" he asked, still unable to believe that they _just_ worked together. Sebastian 'hmph'ed.

"She's my employee; I'm her boss. That is all."

"Really? That's it?" Sebastian nodded. "And…you're fine with that? You don't want anything more?" Sebastian looked out the window.

"Of course I'm fine with it," he said. "What more could I possibly want?" The Undertaker grinned and slowly shook his head. Ciel wanted to ask him what that meant, but he pressed his finger over his lips— _"shh…"_

They stopped at the building and Ciel and Abberline got out.

"Remember," Sebastian said to them, "go to my place bright and early in the morning—but not _too_ bright and early. I'm afraid I don't want a Madam Barnett repeat."

Ciel nodded and the limo pulled away and disappeared into the night. Abberline looked at him.

"Do I…also have to go?"

"I doubt it," Ciel said. "You didn't sign a contract with him. Good evening, inspector."

And he went upstairs to go to sleep, but not before giving Madam Red all the details of what he had done.

As promised, he woke up bright and early, had breakfast with his aunt, and they went down to the Michaelis manor in a taxi—Madam Red didn't want to leave Ciel alone, especially when the underworld was involved. He convinced her at the door that he didn't need an escort, and after promising her repeatedly that he would call her at the slightest hint of any trouble, she told the taxi to take her to a club that she was interested in and disappeared. Ciel waved her off and, after making sure that she was gone, entered the mansion.

It was eerily quiet inside. The guards walked around in dazes. There was a room full of men and women talking on phones and taking notes, every now and then giving each other bewildered looks. A couple of people were crying.

Ciel stopped a passing guard.

"What's going on? Where's Michaelis?"

"He's in the drawing room," the guard said distractedly and pointed. Ciel nodded in thanks and speed-walked to the room.

Undertaker, Agni, Bardroy, and Wolfram were standing around, looking absolutely shocked. Sebastian was lying on a couch with a cold wet rag on his forehead. He was staring up at the ceiling but wasn't seeing anything. Agni was fanning him.

"What is it? What happened? What's going on?" Ciel asked, looking at everyone in confusion and worry.

"Eleanora has been arrested," Sebastian said dully, as if even now he couldn't believe it.


	24. Chapter 24

_Author's Note: I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who has read—or is reading—this story and to apologize for the short chapters and slow updates; I'm trying to juggle three stories at once. One chapter will be updated every day or every other day, and again I apologize for the short chapters, which usually end in cliffhangers. Thank you for reading! Really, really thank you!_

Eleanora had waved goodbye to the limo's occupants and had gone upstairs to her apartment, humming something and thinking about tomorrow, what she would do and how she would do it, thinking about parties and food and party food and food again and she reached her apartment and opened the door and stepped into the darkness.

She tossed her things aside and began digging through her closet for a new pair of high-heels, irritably tossing broken ones aside. She really should learn to toss them after they broke, but she could never bring herself to do so. Those heels were like family to her—or something.

Eventually she found a pair and put them on, enjoying the extra inches of height and the now-familiar feeling of walking around on tiptoes. Then she realized that she was still in the dark and turned on a light.

Goodwin was sitting in a chair, smiling at her, surrounded by police officers.

She reacted immediately; life in George Street had taught her that men in a lone woman's apartment never meant anything good; it was fight-or-worse.

So she fought.

She brought out her gun and shot the officers in the leg, hitting six until she ran out of bullets. Then she threw the gun, knocking one of the unwounded ones unconscious and sprang up and began hitting people while Goodwin was shouting a lot.

Then two police officers snuck up behind her and handcuffed her hands behind her back and she relaxed.

 _"Oh,"_ she thought, relieved, _"I'm just being arrested, thank god."_

Then she remembered all of their plans for tomorrow.

 _"Well, !."_

Goodwin rose up from his chair and frowned down at her.

"Miss Eleanora Black."

"Inspector Godly."

" _Goodwin_."

"Whatever; I've never been good with names."

Goodwin frowned more intensely.

"So," she said casually, "dare I ask what I did to be arrested? Or is this one of that lame, you-know-what-you-did type of thing?"

"Actually, it's not what you did at all," Goodwin said. "It's what your boss did."

"Michaelis?"

"Indeed. We know that he's somehow involved in the murders at Brooklyn, but, unfortunately, we can't arrest him due to his noble status and popularity." He grinned wickedly. "However, there is nothing saying we can't arrest his little flower."

"I'm not his little flower; I just work for him."

"Uh-huh, sure. Take her away, boys."

Eleanora didn't offer any resistance, which made Goodwin nervous. Did she know something that they didn't? No, that was impossible. But wasn't she a woman? Weren't women supposed to be hysterical and screaming that they were innocent and begging not to be arrested? She did none of these things; she quietly allowed herself to be taken to prison and locked in a cell, and only then did she ask—politely—for her phone call.

"You'll get it later," Goodwin snapped and called up Randall to tell him that he had the girl in custody.

Eleanora settled down into her cell and wondered about her phone call—she would only get one, of course. She thought about who she would call. The obvious answer was Sebastian; she would have to tell him where she was and how she got there and settle the questions about her salary. Or she could call the Undertaker; he had a lawyer degree; she could dictate to him her last will and testament and tell Michaelis everything through him. Or she could call Tina—not for any real purpose, just to annoy him mostly. That would be quite amusing.

She had visitors the next afternoon: Michaelis with two of his men and that Earl of Phantomhive. Michaelis had lunged for the cell, grabbed her hands, and began kissing them with all of his might.

"My dear," he moaned. "My poor, dearest, darling, dear; what did they do to you? Did they do horrible things to you? Are you frightened? Are you traumatized?" He glared at Goodwin and the police officers. "I'll sue," he said. "I'll sue you and I'll sue your whole operation and I'll sue your government and believe me, I'll _win_."

"Now sir, don't sue," Goodwin said weakly, knowing full well that what Sebastian said was more than probable.

"And why shouldn't I? You broke into one of my employee's house and arrested her without due process or anything or…anything."

He glared at them again and got back to kissing her hands.

"I'm fine, really," Eleanora said, smiling tiredly at the others. "It wasn't so bad; I've been arrested before."

Goodwin and the police officers shared a look. Really? When was this?

"And it's a very nice prison; I've been in much worse," she continued. "So I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"I'll pay for a nicer cell," Sebastian promised her. "I'll pay for your solitude and for you to be far away from men and for you to have decent meals three times a day and don't worry about your salary; you'll still get paid even if you're not doing anything."

She looked enormously relieved—dare Ciel say 'happy?'—and sighed.

"Thank you sir," she said quietly. Sebastian smiled at her and kissed her hand again before dropping them.

"But what about the party?" Eleanora whispered to him. "What are we going to do now?"

"Don't worry, we'll think of something," he said, glancing back at the officers. "How much is her bail?"

"Bail?"

"Yes, bail; how much do we pay to get her out of here?" Sebastian said impatiently.

"I'm afraid that she's imprisoned without bail, sir…"

Sebastian said a foreign word that Ciel was pretty sure he shouldn't have heard.

"Don't worry darling," he said to her. "We'll take care of you."

"And the job?"

"Don't worry about that either; just worry about taking care of yourself; I've heard that these prisons are perfect for making people sick; just keep your health and we'll take care of the rest."

They all sat down and began keeping Eleanora company while the Undertaker drew up the schedule. Sebastian insisted on having someone spend every day with Eleanora to keep her company and to make sure that she was fine and to prevent anything from happening to her. They couldn't discuss their next plan because of the police officers.

Visitation hours were over. Sebastian kissed her hands a couple hundred more times and promised that someone would be there for her during the whole of visitation hours. Eleanora smiled, thanked them all, and waved goodbye as they left. She was alone.

She sat back down on her bed and tried to think. The plan was already falling around them—she knew that she was the most trusted female in M's gang; Sebastian wouldn't allow any other woman who he thought subpar to help them with a case of this magnitude. She wondered what they would do.

The Undertaker had, as promised, talked to all of the girls working for Michaelis. Three of them had stepped up with invitations to the party and Madam Red had somehow acquired another one. That meant four people could attend this party—the party where only females were allowed.

"So what do we do?" Ciel asked. "Which women do we trust to go for us?"

"That's the problem," Sebastian said, frowning at the tickets. "I don't trust _any_ of them. I would have trusted Eleanora, but now that she's…" He broke off and cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter. We need four reliable women to get into this party and send information back to us. But where do we find them?"

"They've already been found," the Undertaker said, grinning. "Just turn around."

All three of them—Sebastian, Ciel, and Agni—accordingly turned around, anticipating four women.

"Undertaker, that's a mirror," Sebastian said dryly.

"Exactly," he cackled and held up a pair of Eleanora's high-heels. "Who's ready to break into a party?"


	25. Chapter 25

The party was in full swing by the time the limo pulled up to the front door. The guard at the door put on his best blank look—it was unprofessional to look admiringly at pretty ladies. He confessed that it was rather difficult; most of all the women who had been invited looked like models, but he did his best.

Four women approached him, each holding an invitation. He bowed, took the invitations, and asked for their names.

"Celia," said the little girl.

"Kali," said the foreign woman.

"Helen," said the weird one.

"Eleanora," the pretty one growled and they walked inside, the little girl staggering a bit on her high-heels.

The four women entered the ballroom, looked around, and then went to a fairly secluded space near a wall, always looking around shiftily.

"Hey—"

Kali pointed at someone: a man elegantly attired and surrounded by women.

"I thought that only women were invited?" Kali whispered.

" _Seriously_?" Eleanora whisper-shouted. "I get dressed up like an absolute _moron_ and _men_ can be _invited_?!"

"Calm down Boss—I mean, uh, Eleanora," Helen said.

"Don't blow our cover," Celia said, glancing nervously at the people closest to them.

"Besides, it doesn't look like many men did get invited," Kali said, examining the group. "Maybe…fifty women to one man?"

Eleanora growled and began fiddling with her hair.

"Stop that!" Helen said. "It might come out."

Eleanora growled again and calmed down.

"Alright," she said, her tone turning professional and commanding, "Agni and Undertaker—I mean Kali and Helen (why of all names Helen?), you two go and investigate the manor—find out where these secret meetings are taking place and what they're saying. Meanwhile, the Earl—I mean Celia—and I will remain here and see if we can find something out."

Helen and Kali nodded and scampered off together out of the ballroom, thankfully attracting little notice, leaving Celia and Eleanora in the ballroom.

"Why Celia?" Eleanora asked the little girl. She shrugged.

"Madam Red suggested adding an 'a' to the end of my name: Ciela. If you rearrange the letters, you get 'Celia,' which is a much more common name."

Eleanora shrugged and pointed with her fan.

"Alright, you take that side and I'll take this side and we'll go around the ballroom and meet somewhere at the ends. Understand?"

"Fine. Sebastian?"

"What?" Eleanora said, looking around irritably.

"What if we get…discovered? Think of the shame!"

"We're in America. Everyone's shameful here. Make up an excuse and then run. _I_ don't know. You humans! Must we always think of _everything_ for you?"

Celia glared at Eleanora and stomped off to the other side of the ballroom, keeping her eyes and ears open for any information. Eleanora began striding away, looking as elegant as usual and desperately trying to ignore how much he hated thongs.


	26. Chapter 26

Helen and Kali—or the Undertaker and Agni, as they were usually known as—wandered around the house, looking for any signs of underworld business. They opened every door, rifled through the ceilings, began sneaking through the rafters, which was good because it enabled them to secretly enter any room, listen and see what was going on, and then leave without being noticed. Meanwhile, Celia and Eleanora—or Ciel and Sebastian—remained stuck in the ballroom, secretly eavesdropping on conversations and watching for any suspicious behavior, while they themselves tried to remain inconspicuous (which was difficult; they had never been forced to dress up as women before). All in all, they probably had the most boring job, as all of the partygoers seemed to be interested in talking about nothing but clothes.

Lord Robert Fabulus was also bored. He wandered around the ballroom, politely declining invitations to dance from the various women who approached him. His father had dragged him out to this party in the hopes that he would meet the love of his life—something which hadn't happened yet and he doubted would ever happen.

He sighed and moved aside for a chattering group of girls, looked up, and saw her.

The love of his life.

She was beautiful, with long black hair elegantly swooped up and curled, with perfect lips and gorgeous reddish-amber eyes. Like him, she seemed bored with the party; she stood by the snack table and frowned disdainfully at the people around her, fanning herself.

She was so lovely, like a Greek statue! He couldn't let this chance leave him; she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen in his life; he just _had_ to talk to her!

Sebastian groaned a bit under his breath and thought about the best way to discreetly correct his undergarments. The thong had been the Undertaker's idea; he had said that no decent woman would go to a party without one; but looking back on it all, he had never heard Eleanora mention thongs…or buy one…or wear one. This last thought made him think of Eleanora in her underwear and he was just about to explore this idea some more when a young man approached him, smiling nervously.

"H-Hello."

"Oh, hello," Sebastian said, fanning himself, not even bothering to keep the bored tone out of his voice. "Can I help you?"

"Oh—no! Or well, maybe…" the man giggled shyly and Sebastian rolled his eyes. Men were such _idiots_. "Actually, ma'am, I was wondering if, maybe, if you aren't too busy, then you could…"

"Spit it out already; I haven't got all night," Sebastian snapped, fanning himself the more.

"I was wondering, miss, if you would oblige me with a dance this evening…"

"What? _Dance_? With _you_?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Perhaps you can't dance?"

"Of _course_ I can dance; I'm told that I'm a good dancer, but…"

His protests were lost on the man's ears; he lit up like an overjoyed firecracker.

"Oh! So you _will_ dance with me? Shall we go now? Oh! I'm so _happy_ …"

And before Sebastian could protest some more, Robert Fabulus had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off to the dance floor.

Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive, was having his own difficulties. Women insisted on crowding him and pinching his cheeks and calling him " _such_ a cute little dear!" which he assuredly was _not_.

He somehow managed to excuse himself from the women and began walking as fast as he could to the restroom; he had to get away from it all; from the glitz and the glamor and the perfume and the pink and he ran into someone's back…

"Please excuse me," he mumbled and was about to continue on his way when he looked up and recognized the man. "Mr. Mayfield!"

"Eh?" Joe Mayfield said, turning to look behind him. "Who are you?"

"I'm—" Ciel was about to say when he remembered that he was a woman. "I'm…I'm honored to finally meet you at last, Mr. Mayfield," he said, raising his voice a bit higher. "I've heard so much about you…"

Mayfield smiled and puffed himself up a bit.

"Well, now! What a cute little darling _you_ are! How did such a cutie manage to get herself an invitation to such a grown-up ball?"

Ciel shuddered at his condescending way and realized something: Mayfield wasn't stuttering. He seemed absolutely confident, almost cocky. This meant that either his stutter came and went depending on who he was talking to, or he was a particularly great actor.

"Well, actually, sir, I had been hoping to speak with you all evening…"

"You're _so_ beautiful," Robert breathed. They were standing on a balcony, overlooking the mansion's garden. He kept on trying to sidle closer to her and she kept on trying to scoot away from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Fabulus; you're _such_ a dear; but I was hoping you can tell me some more about your father?" Sebastian said, trying to keep a light, casual tone while keeping himself as far away from this man as possible.

"My father? Haven't I told you enough about him? No, let's talk about you." And he moved closer to her. "You have such wonderful eyes…And a perfect smile…And the loveliest name…Miss Eleanora…"

"Yes, it is quite a lovely name, isn't it?" Sebastian mumbled, looking a bit dreamy himself before snapping back into action. "And _you_ sir, are getting a bit too familiar for comfort…" And he scooted away from him.

"'Too familiar?' How, my darling?"

"Well, I mean, we've only just met and you're already calling me 'Miss Eleanora;' that's not my name, you know…"

"Well then, what is it? Dearest, my sweetest, tell me what your name is!" Robert said passionately and tried to throw his arms around her. Sebastian darted away from him just in time, violently fanning himself.

"My name is…" he paused and got a brilliant idea, "my name is _Mrs_. Eleanora Michaelis."

"'Mrs. Eleanora?'" Robert said, surprised.

"Yes, 'Mrs.;' I'm married," Sebastian said, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "I'm married and you have no right to throw yourself on a lady like that; are you a gentleman or aren't you?"

"But aren't we both _human_?" Robert asked, again trying to embrace her. "Can't we both succumb to the same sweet pleasures of life: that of glorious and undying _love_?"

"Lord save me," Sebastian hissed under his breath and again darted away.

The Undertaker and Agni were still in the ceiling, listening to people's conversations.

"This Fabulus guy sounds interesting," the Undertaker whispered to Agni. "We should look him up; I think he's connected to the underworld somehow."

Agni nodded back.

"And so is Mayfield," he whispered. "I just heard a couple of people mention his name, along with some rumours of his illicit dealings."

"That should be enough; let's get the others and leave."

"Fine with me."

And they crawled out of the ceiling and went back into the ballroom.


	27. Chapter 27

Ciel saw the Undertaker and Agni on the other side of the ballroom, looking a bit dusty and searching the room. He quickly moved towards them, desperate to go away and never come back. The heels were starting to hurt him.

"Hello," he said once he reached them. "Did you find anything out?"

"Numerous things," the Undertaker said. "Joe Mayfield regularly attends these secret meetings in regards to the underworld…and there's this guy who seems really interesting: Lord Jerome Fabulus. Have you heard of anything?"

"I've talked to Mayfield; he didn't stutter once when talking to me. He said that he's here to discover when and where a certain meeting will take place…I followed him when we were done talking."

"And?"

"And I saw him go over there," Ciel pointed with his fan, "and he whispered something into that vase of flowers. And then the flowers _moved_ and someone handed him a card and he walked away."

"And? Did you find out where the meeting takes place?"

Ciel grinned and held up a white card.

"Straight from the horse's mouth. Where's Sebastian?"

"I don't know; we lost sight of him quite a while ago…"

"Oh, there he is," Agni said, pointing. Everyone turned and looked.

A very furious Sebastian stomped up to them, fanning himself so hard that his hand seemed to stay still.

"There you are!" the Undertaker said cheerfully. "How was it? Did you learn any…"

"María, he's _here_!" Sebastian hissed, looking behind him and darting behind the Undertaker. "Tell him that I'm not here! Say I had to go powder my nose!"

Before anyone could ask him what on earth was going on, a handsome young man jogged up to them, beaming.

"Pardon me," he said, "but have any of you ladies seen a Venus around?"

"A Venus?" the Undertaker cackled. "You mean like a statue?"

The man laughed lightly.

"Perhaps a statue," he said dreamily. "After all, she had the perfect beauty of a statue…I'm referring to the most beautiful woman in the world; the woman with the raven-black hair and the shapely nose and the loveliest smile…"

"Oh, she's not here," the Undertaker said. "She's still in prison."

"What?" the man said, surprised. "Really? The angel Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis?" The Undertaker nodded.

"Yes that's the— _'Mrs.' Eleanora 'Michaelis?'"_

"Yes…" the young man said, sighing. "My beautiful young Eleanora, with the beautiful broad shoulders and the vibrant curves and the sparkling red eyes…"

"Oh, _her_!" the Undertaker forced a laugh. "She went that way;" he pointed, "she had to go powder her nose."

"Then I shall await her!" the young man cried. "I shall await her even if it takes me my whole life! Thank you, my good woman! And wait for me, my sweet precious little dove!" He turned and practically ran in the direction that the Undertaker pointed at. They waited for a while to make sure that he was gone and then looked down at Sebastian, who was slapping his fan against his forehead.

"So…" the Undertaker said, "Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis."

"It was a split-second decision," Sebastian snapped. " _Anything_ to deter that _freak_."

"He didn't seem freakish; he seemed rather nice," Ciel said.

"Are you kidding? It was like talking to Grell, only worse, because you can at least avoid Grell every now and then. That or attack him. But I couldn't do _anything_! I was forced to stand there and listen to this _twit_ babble on about nothing! He said so many saccharine things that I think my _spit_ tastes sweet." Sebastian licked his lips and moaned. "I am absolutely saturated by sweet things. I need to go home and be a man again."

"Well, what can you say?" the Undertaker shrugged. "He's a man in love."

"Well, he's an idiot in love."

"All men become idiots when they're in love."

"I don't."

"That's because you've never been in love," Agni said.

"Exactly, and that's how it's going to remain."

"Are you really so sure about that?" the Undertaker grinned.

"Explain that," Sebastian said coldly.

"'Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis?'"

"Are you still on about that? I told you that it was a split-second decision. I thought that if he thought that I was married, then he wouldn't…"

"…But why not 'Mrs. Eleanora Black?' Why specifically 'Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis?'"

"No…reason."

"Maybe it's your subconscious, telling you something…"

Sebastian scoffed.

"Oh, yes, of course. And what, pray tell, is my subconscious telling me?"

"That maybe you like hearing that—'Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis.'"

"Of course I like hearing it. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis," and he looked a bit dreamy and kept on murmuring it to himself, "Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis…Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis…"

"But you're not _really_ Eleanora."

"Of course not! There's only one _real_ Eleanora."

"So why the name?"

"I thought…I didn't…You…" Sebastian tried to say and eventually broke off, looking displeased. "I have nothing left to say. I am tired and I feel ill and if I so much as _hear_ that young man's _disgusting_ voice I promptly shall kill myself. And this conversation is done."

"Sure thing Boss," the Undertaker said, grinning. He winked at Ciel, who didn't really pay attention to it. He was on the verge of falling asleep, and did so in the car as they drove home.

He woke up when Madam Red screamed with laughter upon seeing Sebastian Michaelis in the car. He had taken off his dress and hairpiece and was sitting in lady's underwear, including corset, thong, and garters.


	28. Chapter 28

Sebastian woke up bright and early and went downstairs in his usual immaculate suit, whistling something cheerful.

"Well, aren't _you_ the happy one today?" the Undertaker said upon noticing him. Sebastian nodded and smiled.

"Who wouldn't be happy? I'm finally wearing _pants_ ," he said and began to leave the manor.

"Where are you going?"

"To the prison; I'm going to visit Eleanora."

So saying, he left and began heading to the jail. He stopped along the way and bought a small bouquet of roses to brighten up her day, which were promptly ruined by the prison inspection, making sure that he wasn't bringing in a nail file or a hidden message or something.

So the roses weren't as pretty as they had been when he had bought them, but they still looked rather nice. Sebastian approached her cell, still whistling.

"Eleanora!" he called out, presenting the flowers. "Eleanora! It's me. I'm back!"

There was a shift in the darkness and Eleanora appeared. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she had a sleepless night…that or as if she had been crying. Maybe both.

"Eleanora?" Sebastian said softly, "is everything alright? Did something happen?" She shook her head. "Oh. Well, look! I've brought you roses."

"Thank you," she said tiredly.

"Don't you like…roses?" Sebastian asked hesitantly.

"They're alright."

"I thought that you might like them…"

"Hm."

"Eleanora," he said, taking her hand and gently kissing it, "are you sure that you're alright? Did something happen? Have the guards been rude to you?" He glared at the closest prison employees, who flinched.

Eleanora looked at war with herself for a bit. To tell or not to tell? Eventually she chose to tell.

"I know about her," she said icily and looked away.

"'Know about her?' About who? Who are you talking about?"

"Your wife—Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis."

"My wi—My _WHAT_?!"

"One of the men stopped by yesterday and told me all about it," she said. "About how you got four women to go to that party for you—and one of them was your wife, Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis." She turned away from him. "Does she…know about…me?"

"Eleanora," Sebastian said seriously, "you're mistaken. The message must have gotten messed up along the way, but listen to me: _I am not married_. I never have been and, if my luck holds out, I never will be."

"Then who was that woman at the ball who you sent? This Mrs. Michaelis?"

"It's actually rather a funny story, and I'll tell you all about it as soon as we get you out of jail…" He paused, seeing her expression. "Eleanora? Dearest?"

Eleanora gave him a small, sad look.

"Eleanora," he said, taking her hand again, "I assure you that I am not married or have had any contact with the opposite sex…save for you, of course. I'll tell you everything once we're somewhere more…private," he shot another glare at the officers.

Eleanora shrugged and remained silent. She didn't seem to want to talk anymore. Sebastian said goodbye and told her to look after herself; they'd get her out eventually.

He left much more subdued than he had entered. His mood worsened upon arriving at his manor and hearing of a visitor:

 _"NO."_

"But Boss," the Undertaker said patiently, "his father is deeply involved in the underworld! Think of all the information you could get out of him!"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"He…"

"No."

"Will you…"

"No."

"His father is also heavily involved in the police force," the Undertaker said icily. "If you get into his good graces, he might get Eleanora out quicker."

Sebastian paused.

"Think of _Eleanora…"_ the Undertaker wheedled. "All alone in that cold dark prison…Nobody to look after her…Nobody to care…"

Sebastian groaned.

Robert Fabulus was waiting anxiously in the drawing room, his foot tapping with impatience. He heard the door open behind him and was about to stand up but the voice of his beloved angel told him to keep sitting.

"My love," he said. "I've brought you roses."

"Oh," Sebastian said, rolling his eyes, "how nice."

"Don't you like…roses?"

"They're alright."

"I thought that you might like them…"

"Hm."

"My beloved," Robert said, "my dearest, my darling, my only…Is there something wrong?"

"What on earth makes you think that there is something wrong?"

"Your tone…Your precious angelic voice sounds fraught with sadness and despair…My love, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can introduce me to your father, spring someone out of jail for me, and then go to Antarctica and never come back."

"Of course! Anything for you, my sweet! Oh, how long we have been apart! These past hours away from you have been sheer torture! Ah, my darling—"

Robert, overcome with love and emotion, sprung up from his seat and whirled around to face the person behind him, falling down on one knee…

The person with his love's voice was a man, a very displeased man whose eyebrow continuously twitched.

"My…my love?"

" _What_?" the man said irritably. "You didn't think that I was a woman, did you? It was merely a disguise, and now, unless you want something really, really horrible to happen to you, you will…"

"I can't believe it," Robert whispered, staring at the ground. "All this time…"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure that you're traumatized for life," Sebastian said, waving his hand. "Now then, about your father…"

"All this time…and I never even knew…"

"Knew what? Come on, we've known each other for less than twenty-four hours; get a grip already, you…"

"I never knew…why I had always turned away from women. But now I see…it is because…I am a homosexual!" Robert looked up, beaming, shining eyes glistening with tears.

Sebastian looked horrified and took several steps back.

"You… _what_?"

"That's right," Robert said, springing to his feet and pulling Sebastian close. "I still love you, my dearest, my beloved, and now that I know your secret, absolutely _nothing_ can keep us apart!"

Sebastian looked as if he was seriously considering dying.

"My love," Robert continued, kissing Sebastian's cheek, "wait for me! I shall be back in but a moment! After all, every second away from you is nothing less than pure agony! Wait for me; I must go and tell Father the good news!"

And he sprung away and left the manor, singing delightedly.

The Undertaker entered the room a few minute later. Sebastian was lying face-down on one of the couches.

"So? How'd it go?"

"Undertaker…"

"Yes?"

"There's a pistol in my bedside table…Would you please be a dear and get it…"

"And then what?"

"…And then shoot me in the head?"

"…Yeah, I'm not doing that."

Sebastian spent the rest of the evening in his room, saying that he was feeling ill.


	29. Chapter 29

The law said that there was a certain amount of time a person could remain in jail without evidence that they had committed a crime. This time ran out for Eleanora and she was released.

She wandered around outside for a little bit, thinking about where she would go and what she would do. She thought about going back to the Michaelis manor but at the same time, she really didn't want to. This odd "Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis" was still preying on her mind. She wasn't really sure about anything. Was he really married? Why didn't he tell her? If he was married, did his wife know about her? Was she jealous? But they just worked together. And why did she and his wife have the same first name?

Eventually she decided that she had to go back. She had a job. She had already had several days off; that was almost like a vacation, even if she had been in prison. It was unprofessional not to go back to work.

She hesitantly approached the Michaelis manor. The door guard stood at attention and mumbled something about how it was nice to have her back. She nodded and entered the manor. It was eerily silent. There was no one around, no one to ask where her boss had gone.

She wandered around the manor, opening doors and gently calling out, "Hello?" No one answered. Eventually she reached the ballroom and opened up the door…

It was completely dark. There was a light switch somewhere; she slid her hand over the wall, trying to find it; there it was; she flicked it on…

Someone released a party popper in her face and everyone cheered. There was some kind of surprise party in the ballroom. Eleanora blinked in surprise while everyone clapped and shouted congratulations.

"Surprise, Eleanora!" the Undertaker said, the one who had released the first popper. "We're so glad you're back, so we decided to throw a little party for you!"

Eleanora smiled and was pushed into the throng. Everyone wanted to shake her hand and say how happy they were that she had been released from prison and a couple of people were even crying.

Sebastian was leaning against the wall, smiling at her. Their eyes met once or twice and Eleanora wondered at him. He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual smile—it wasn't his little smirk or his superior grin or his mocking smile…It was a gentle, tender smile, as if she was the most important thing in his world and that he couldn't even stand how happy he was…just looking at her and smiling was enough.

She danced quite a lot: once with Bardroy and Wolfram, twice with Undertaker, Agni, and Ciel, and the rest were reserved for Sebastian. She danced many times with her boss, which was rather odd. She knew that most of the young ladies that he employed would have cheerfully cut off their dominant hands for a dance with him, yet he seemed to want to dance only with her. Perhaps it was a perk of being one of the boss's most trusted employees, but he held her rather tight. Not tight enough for her to be uncomfortable, but still tighter than how most dancers hold their partners. He also kept on nuzzling her hair with his head and sighing.

"You look beautiful," he murmured to her.

"I just got out of prison," she said. "I'm not even in a dress or anything."

"It doesn't matter; you're always beautiful."

"Thanks Boss."

He smiled at her and kissed the top of her head.

When the party was over and everyone had gotten back to work, she, Sebastian, Undertaker, Agni, and Ciel sat around in the drawing room and had tea, where they then recounted the story of the party. She hadn't laughed so hard in ages, especially upon hearing that "Mrs. Eleanora Michaelis" was actually Sebastian.

"But why Eleanora?" she asked. "Out of all the female names, why did you choose Eleanora?"

"It's a pretty name," he said. "Sometimes I think that it's the prettiest name in the world."

Eleanora laughed at that.

By the time the story had been finished and everyone had stopped laughing, it was well past midnight. Sebastian insisted that Eleanora stay in the manor because firstly, he didn't trust the police and secondly, he hadn't seen Eleanora in forever.

"Didn't you see her yesterday?" the Undertaker asked.

"That's what I said."

They went to bed and Eleanora remained up a little longer, thinking about the past few days and the odd behaviour of her boss.

 _"I'm sure it's nothing,"_ she thought. _"He's just glad to see me. Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal."_

Sebastian had a horrible nightmare. He dreamed that he was a beautiful bride getting married to Robert Fabulus.


	30. Chapter 30

Nobody saw Sebastian much. He was always doing two things: avoiding Robert Fabulus or being with Robert Fabulus, which was actually rather odd.

Whenever he was with Robert, he always tried to convince him to introduce him to his father, something Robert always promised to do but never actually did anything.

Whenever he was away from Robert, he always tried to keep it that way for as long as possible, especially as Robert couldn't bear to be away from him for more than three seconds at a time. He was always hanging around the Michaelis manor and almost got shot when he jumped on Eleanora. He had seen her from behind and thought that she was Sebastian dressed in drag again and when he tackle-hugged her, she thought that she was being attacked and almost killed him accidently. She had apologized afterwards but rarely ventured into the Michaelis house again, desperate to avoid the ardent Robert. This made Sebastian even more irritable than usual and he took to sneaking away from the manor, which was a problem because nobody could find him if nobody knew where he was.

It was quite the dilemma, but eventually Robert found the solution.

He decided to introduce Sebastian to his father.

It was a momentous occasion. It meant the end of the strange murders in Brooklyn and most importantly, the end of having to see Robert Fabulus ever again. Sebastian put on his most pristine suit and made sure that all was ready. He wanted to make a good impression, and if Jerome Fabulus put up a fight and refused to surrender the information, it was always better to kidnap someone while looking absolutely immaculate. Much more professional and classy.

Jerome Fabulus was accordingly invited to the Michaelis mansion. Sebastian was sitting on a couch in the drawing room, teasing Eleanora.

"Ah, Lord Fabulus, do come in," he said, making a small hand movement. Eleanora got the point and "left." Actually, she didn't really "leave"; she joined Ciel, Undertaker, Agni, and the rest of the men in the hidden balconies in the drawing room to watch but not be seen, just in case there was any trouble and they had to kidnap Jerome.

"So, Lord Michaelis…" Jerome said, sitting across from Sebastian.

"Yes?" he smiled.

"I understand that you and my son have been…seeing each other?"

"Oh," Sebastian's face fell. "Yes, that's right."

"My son is really attached to you."  
"How…charming."

"He insists that you're his true love."

"If you believe in such things."

"He wants you to marry him."

Sebastian just stared at him. Ciel, Undertaker, Agni, and Eleanora tried not to laugh.

"Well?"

"…Sir?"

"Do you accept?"

"Accept what, sir?"

"Accept my son's proposal, of course! Will you marry my son or not?"

There was a suspicious cackling sound from above which was quickly followed by giggly "hush! Shh! He'll hear us!"

Sebastian blinked at him.

"Well sir…It's really very flattering, but…"

"But what?" Jerome said impatiently.

"…But I'm not a homosexual."

"If you're not, then why have you been meeting my son?"

"To be perfectly honest, it was so that I could meet you, sir."

"Oh," Jerome scooted away from him a bit. "But…my son?"

"I understand that you're involved in the criminal underworld," Sebastian said, becoming businesslike. "To be specific, I know that you know something about the recent murders at Brooklyn."

Jerome's face fell.

"You—How did you—Who are—"

"Have you heard of 'M', Lord Fabulus?" Sebastian said, smirking. "That's me. I am M, Queens' crime lord. And you've been a naughty boy, playing with other children's toys without permission…Shouldn't you be punished for that?"

"Now see here, sir," Jerome said shakily, standing up and backing away from him, "if you're trying to blackmail me…"

"Blackmail? My good sir, you're not _worth_ blackmailing. I tell you what: you tell me everything you know and make your son never to come near me again, I'll let you go. How about that?"

"SECURITY!" Jerome shouted and ran for the door. Sebastian calmly, almost lazily snapped his fingers and his guards got Jerome before he had even made it out of the drawing room.

"Too bad, Lord Fabulus," Sebastian said. "I thought that we could be friends. But I'm afraid that you're just like your son: you just can't take a hint. Take him away."

Jerome was dragged off into the legendary Michaelis basement, protesting and screaming all the way. Sebastian sighed and placed his hand over his eyes.

" _Heelloo_ Mrs. Robert Fabulus," the Undertaker crooned.

"Leave me alone," Sebastian said coldly, "and contact that idiot son. Tell him that I have his father in custody and I'm ready to discuss ransom."

"Why, _certainly_ , Mrs. Fabulus."

Sebastian leapt to his feet, his eyes flashing murderously, but by that time, all four of them had run off, laughing.


	31. Chapter 31

When Robert Fabulus first heard that his father had been kidnapped by Sebastian Michaelis, his first thought was, "how romantic!" Someone kidnapping his father for _him_! He had already undoubtedly accepted his proposal. Robert took a shower, dressed in his finest suit, liberally dabbed himself with cologne, and went to the Michaelis Manor with roses.

He was incredibly surprised to see Sebastian teasing some woman. He was sitting on a couch in the drawing room and had stolen one of the woman's high-heels. He was holding them up out of her reach and laughing. She was taking it all in stride but frequently demanded assistance from the other three men in the room: some tall, foreign man, some old, creepy guy, and a sour-looking little kid who was smiling instead of laughing like the others.

"Oh, Mr. Fabulus," Sebastian said, giving the woman her high-heel back and kissing her cheek as she took it. "Do come in and sit down. We have much to discuss. I take it you brought the money?"

"Money? What money? For the wedding?"

"No, for the ransom."

"Ransom? What ransom?" Robert asked, trying to smile and glaring at the woman at the same time. Little whore; hitting on _his_ man…

"The ransom for your father," Sebastian said patiently. "I've kidnapped him, if you'll recall."

"I know that you did! And really, it was _too_ much; you really shouldn't have…"

"...I'm torturing him, even as we speak," he said, examining his fingernails.

Robert blinked at him.

"Oh. Well, that's nice too…"

"He's connected to the criminal underworld," Sebastian said, smiling. "As I am. And he's ruining it for all of us, including me. I've already extracted all the information I need from him, and if you don't pay the ransom, I shall kill him, for the good of the underworld."

Robert blinked again and forced a small laugh.

"You—You're kidding, right? This is a joke, right? Sweetums? What about the wedding?"

"There is no wedding," he said calmly, "but if you don't do what I ask, then there _will_ be a funeral."

Robert just stared at him.

"But…snookums…The wedding? The proposal? Our love? Was it all…a lie?"

"Call it what you like," Sebastian said. "But I assure you, that if you don't get me my money within twenty-four hours, I shall send you your father's body."

Sobbing, Robert Fabulus left the mansion. The money was collected and Jerome Fabulus was sent to his son in a crate with air holes. Attached to the crate with tape was a ring that Robert had given Sebastian.

Jerome was sent to the hospital for his injuries. There weren't that many; he had squealed pretty early and was released that same night. Robert buried his face in his shoulder and sobbed.

"Daddy! D-Daddy, Sebastian! Sebastian…doesn't love me anymore! He…He broke up with me!" He wailed. "Daddy! Will I ever find another man as kind and as loving as he was?"

Jerome just stared at his son. The next day, he sent Robert to Europe to calm down and find another man. Jerome himself went to Australia—far, far away from New York and Sebastian Michaelis.


	32. Chapter 32

The time had come.

Jerome Fabulus had given up all of his information pertaining to the secret parties, and now five of them were investigating: Sebastian, Ciel, Eleanora, Undertaker, and Agni, while the rest of Sebastian's men circled the building just in case there was any trouble.

It would be a simple mission: get in, eavesdrop, get out. And they were already in, so that was one step off the list.

The five separated to cover more area and to listen to more conversations. They had broken in and didn't have invitations, so not being caught would be a major plus in the mission. They also all had guns—Sebastian had given explicit orders to shoot on-sight anyone who had admitted to being directly related to the murders at Brooklyn.

"The faster the perpetrators are gone, the faster my name gets cleared," he had said darkly.

Ciel found a shadowy corner and hid, touching the gun in his back pocket, listening intently. Most of the conversations were boring; exactly similar to conversations held in other parties.

"The elections are coming up and I don't know _who_ to vote for; they're all _such_ idiots…"

"Did you hear? They're considering repealing prohibition!"

"Oh, that'll be murder for the gangs; they get most of their money selling illegal alcohol…"

"Speaking of murder, have you heard about Brooklyn?"

Ciel perked up and inched a bit closer to hear better.

"Oh, yes! Quite shocking, isn't it? I heard that the lady who's in charge of it all is attending this very party…"

Lady? This was new. Ciel had assumed that a group of people were committing the crimes, not one person…

"They say that her goal is to bring down Sebastian Michaelis. She's got a bunch of supporters who want him dead, and apparently she tells them what to do and who to kill and they run out and do it!"

"Isn't that her right there?"

Ciel cocked his gun and brought it out. He would shoot to disable, not to kill, and then he'd quickly throw the gun away and sneak off to another area. No one would be able to know that it was him…

"Milady! Is it true that you're the one organizing the crimes in Brooklyn?"

"How awful! Don't you feel guilty at all?"

"Is it _really_ because of Sebastian Michaelis?"

"Yes to all," said a smooth, awfully-familiar voice. "I _am_ in charge of what's happening in Brooklyn. And _yes_ , I _do_ feel remarkably guilty about it—but what else can I do? I need to bring down that Sebastian Michaelis…"

Ciel felt cold. Cold and sick.

It was Madam Red.


	33. Chapter 33

He couldn't shoot. She was his own aunt! He couldn't shoot her, not even to disable. He couldn't hurt her—but if he didn't do it, someone else would.

He looked up, completely at a loss, and noticed Sebastian glaring at him. He made a gesture with his head towards Madam Red and mouthed words at him:

 _"Shoot her."_

Ciel raised his gun; his hand was trembling; he was having difficulty seeing; the tears in his eyes made everything so blurry…

He dropped the gun. He couldn't do it. No, he _wouldn't_ do it.

Sebastian was glaring bloody murder at him now.

 _"Shoot her."_

 _"No,"_ Ciel mouthed back.

 _"Shoot her now!"_

 _"NO!"_

Sebastian muttered something and snuck around to get a better target. He wasn't in as good a position as Ciel was; he would undoubtedly get caught, but that didn't matter to him. Ciel could see it in his eyes; he was going to shoot Madam Red—shoot to kill.

For a few brief seconds he was at a loss. What should he do? Saving Madam Red would violate all of their contracts, but he couldn't just sit back and allow her to die. What should he do? Take the bullet? Run away? Scream?

Sebastian's gun cocked and Ciel acted.

" _MADAM!"_ he shrieked and lunged himself at her. Sebastian held fire and backed away into the shadows, looking as grim as death.

Madam Red was also shocked.

"Ciel! Wh-What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here…" she trailed off upon realizing that he was crying.

"WHY?" he sobbed. "Why did you do it? You didn't _have_ to do it! Innocent people are dying and it's all because of _you_! And now they're going to kill _you_! Why did you do it? Why? _Why?_ "

"Ciel, I…" She looked around and realized that everyone was staring at her. "Ciel, I think that we should leave now…" she whispered and dragged him away. He looked up behind her. Sebastian was putting his gun away, staring coolly at them. Agni and Undertaker stood next to him, looking grim.

They passed Eleanora. She looked confused—confused and scared.

"Why did you do it?" Ciel asked coldly in the taxi as they made their way to their hotel.

Madam Red stared down at her feet.

"I heard about all the crimes that Michaelis was committing," she whispered. "I heard about George Morris—the illegal alcohol—the casinos—the murders—everything. And I realized that now you were directly involved in all of this crime…and I couldn't handle it anymore. I wanted you to get away and escape, but I knew that you wouldn't violate your contract with him. So I decided to bring him down on my own—secretly, of course, so that I wouldn't get caught. But I suppose," here she forced an eerie laugh, "I suppose that nothing can stay hidden from Sebastian Michaelis for long, can it?" She gave him a small, sad smile. "I only did it for you, darling. What happened to you? You used to be on the side of justice—you used to be the one to take down these underworld crime gangs. And now…now you're one of _them._ "

Ciel was silent, thinking. They arrived at the hotel and Ciel grabbed her arm.

"Listen," he said quickly, "go and pack your bags and buy a ticket back to England. Just one, for yourself."

"What? Ciel—"

"Just listen," he said urgently, looking around him. "Collect all of the evidence, including lists of people who helped you, and send them to Sebastian. If it's all spread out, send him the addresses of where he could find everything. Then go back to England. I want you out of this country by tomorrow morning."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," he said, forcing an awkward smile. "I have to make peace with Sebastian. I'll follow you afterwards. Don't worry, and go! Run! The faster you go, the less time they have to find you."

Madam Red nodded, hiccupped, and kissed him a million times.

"Be careful, darling," she whispered.

Ciel nodded.

"You too. I love you."

Madam Red nodded again, forced another smile, and ran into the hotel.

Ciel waited until she was truly gone before getting back into the waiting cab.

"The Michaelis Mansion—and step on it."

Sebastian was waiting for him in the ballroom. All of his men were surrounding him, looking furious. Sebastian was sitting on a chair, casually playing with a handgun. Eleanora was next to him, looking nervous.

"Welcome back, Lord Phantomhive," Sebastian said once Ciel had entered the room. Two men closed the door behind him, refusing to make eye contact. "Did you enjoy the party? I would have, only my prey has escaped me…Quite sad, isn't it?"

"I told Madam Red to give you the names of everyone who assisted her," Ciel said, trying to sound brave. "She's gone now. She'll never come back and she'll never bother you again."

"Oh, I suppose so," he said calmly. "She's old news, now. I don't have to concern myself with her any longer—especially if what you say is true. But you're not old news, Earl. You're just as interesting as the day you first arrived in New York." He looked up, smirking. "Saving your beloved aunt? Really? I was starting to think that you were immune to such sentimentalities. I suppose I was wrong. How droll."

The men started to close in on Ciel, growling. He looked around, trying to fight off waves of panic.

"What's happening? What are you doing?"

"I tell you what," Sebastian said, standing up lazily, reaching into his pocket, "why don't we play a game? All children just _love_ games, isn't that right, Lord Phantomhive?" He pulled out a coin and held it up for Ciel to see. "I'll just flip this coin—it's my favorite; it's all that's left of the money I made when I first played poker—and I'll flip it, and you'll call it. If you call it right, I'll let you leave in peace, and you can go back to Merry Ol England on the condition that you never come back. If you call it wrong, then…" he shrugged and waved his gun, "accidents happen, you know?"

The men had formed a circle around the two men; they started leering. Ciel tried not to tremble.

"Relax," Sebastian assured him, "you have a fifty-fifty chance of living, you know."

Ciel swallowed hard and Sebastian flipped the coin.

"H-Heads!" he shouted just as it landed on his hand. Sebastian slapped the coin onto the side of his other hand and smiled mockingly.

"Poor Earl Phantomhive," he said, "I guess you aren't as good as games as they say you are. Oh well." He shrugged and raised his gun so that it was pointed directly at Ciel's head…"I really should be more careful with where I put my guns; you never know; someone irresponsible might find one and it might accidently go off…" he shrugged again. "Well, accidents _do_ happen, and when they do, the best we can do is forgive ourselves and move on." He cocked the gun…

"P-Please," Ciel whispered. "P-Please…"

"It's been fun, Lord Phantomhive. Maybe someday, we'll be lucky enough to meet again in Hell."

Ciel thought that his life should be flashing before his eyes. He thought that he should be thinking about Madam Red and Elizabeth—the fiancée that he had left behind in England. He thought that he should be thinking about how much he didn't want to die, or maybe thinking of an escape plan…

He wasn't thinking of any of these things. Instead, he was watching Eleanora.

She had snuck up behind Sebastian…was raising her leg…everything was moving in slow-motion now…and then the leg dropped on his head, the gun went off, time speeded up, everyone was shouting and she had grabbed Ciel's arm and now they were running away…

Ciel was dimly aware that his legs were moving and that his heart was pumping and that he was alive. He was also aware that they were being chased and Eleanora was running up and down stairs, dragging him behind her, searching for an exit.

She turned a corner and stopped. Sebastian and some of his men were standing in front of them, and the rest of the men were closing in behind them…

"Eleanora," Sebastian said coldly, "give me the boy."

"N-No."

" _Now_ , Eleanora."

"No! The boy saved his aunt. Should he die because he loved her?"

"He should die because he betrayed me. He dies because he broke our contract. He'll die because he doesn't deserve to live."

"And just who are you to decide who deserves to live and who doesn't?" Ciel was vaguely realizing that Eleanora was inching towards a window. "You're going to kill him because he messed up _once_? What about me? If _I_ mess up once, are you going to kill _me_? Or Agni? Or the Undertaker?"

"Perish the thought," Sebastian said with a sudden burst of warmth, but then he was cold again. "We'll discuss my ethics and morals later. For now, just give me the boy."

Eleanora told him to go ! himself. Then she whipped out a gun and shot him in the leg and threw herself and Ciel out the window.

Ciel caught a glimpse of Sebastian as they were jumping through. He had fallen down and his men were surrounding him, but the most haunting thing about it—which Ciel would remember in much-later years—was the heartbreak in his eyes. There was a genuinely pained expression as he watched Eleanora—his girl—the only woman he ever truly trusted—shoot him and leave him. But then the heartbreak dissipated into rage—boiling, white-hot rage—and his screams chased them, even when Eleanora stole a car and they drove off into the night, heading far away from New York, into the great unknown…

 _"TRAITOR!"_ they heard him scream. _"TRAITOR!"_

Several hours passed in the car and they began to relax. Ciel started thinking clearly again and he looked at Eleanora. She looked as composed and as bored as ever, but she kept on glancing repeatedly behind the car and every now and then she bit her lip, as if pained by something.

"…Why did you do it?" Ciel finally asked.

Eleanora forced a laugh.

"I told you before, didn't I?...We're too much alike and you remind me too much of myself. I just can't help myself—I've died too many times to allow the death of another."


	34. Chapter 34

_It's cold._

 _Has it ever been this cold before? It must have been, but she can't remember now. She can barely remember anything._

 _All she remembers is hunger._

 _The hunger is everywhere—it is omnipresent. The thought of food overwhelms all others. She doesn't care about death or life or even the cold…All she cares about is food._

 _The thought of food is both sustenance and torture. It's sustenance because it's so comforting—the idea of a full stomach, the warmth that comes with a good meal…It's torture because everything—the warmth, the fullness, the food itself—is so out-of-reach. She has no money for food. She has no money for anything._

 _She looks around at the bright lights of the city and hates it with a passion that rivals her lust for food. It was supposed to be a city of magic, a place where dreams come true. But this is a lie._

 _It has always been a lie._

 _It is a city of lies; it promises joy and comfort and love and food…But it doesn't give it freely. It needs money. Money, money, money. Always the money, always something that she doesn't have, always something that is just out-of-reach..._

 _It is a city of money. It is a city of greed. It is a city of sin._

 _She collapses on some abandoned doorstep and waits. What is she waiting for? Even she has forgotten. Maybe charity. Maybe death. Probably both. In this city, even Death seems charitable—to be taken far, far away from this world and be free of its earthly needs, be forever free from the curse of money…_

 _She can't stop shivering. It starts to rain._

 _The rain beats down on everything and makes it hard to see. The lights of the city are blurred and she thinks that it's so ironic…The last thing that she'll see before she dies is the lights of the city that she hates so much…She is so tired…All she wants to do is sleep…Slink down into the darkness and the eternal rest that is death…_

 _She blinks and sits upright. Two of the city lights are coming closer to her. But that's impossible. Lights can't move on their own._

 _It's not city lights—it's the lights of a car. A rich car, a fancy car…A limousine. She has seen them before and is no longer impressed. She will never ride in one. It's just another thing that costs money…Money which she doesn't have…_

 _She sighs and closes her eyes and rests her head against the scratched-up doorway. She vaguely wonders how many bodies this door has seen, how many children like her have sat there, just to rest for a time, how many people has this door seen die…_

 _She realizes that it has stopped raining—at least on_ her _anyway. She blinks and looks up._

 _There is a young man standing in front of her, holding an umbrella over her. He is about her age and extraordinarily handsome, with black hair and calm, reddish-amber eyes. He smiles down at her with such kindness, kindness that she has never known before. It is the smile of an angel._

 _"Poor thing," he says in such a kind, sympathetic voice. She slowly revives and tries to sit up some, staring dumbly at this gorgeous man. Perhaps she truly_ has _died and someone had sent this angel to her…At any rate, it seems impossible that this is real; if she's not dead, she's probably hallucinating out of fever…_

 _"Poor thing," he says again and removes his warm, luxurious coat. He drapes it over her shoulders and she snuggles into it gratefully. It smells like red lilies. She weakly smiles up at this man—a man who she decides right then and there is her guardian angel…That or a fairy godmother. She would really accept anything at this point._

 _He buttons the coat up around her._

 _"Are you hungry?" he asks and sticks his hand in his pocket. He brings out a sandwich—a real sandwich. He offers it to her and she grabs it and inhales it; it's gone in a blink._

 _He seems surprised, and then he kind of laughs, and then he's sympathetic again._

 _"Really now," he murmurs, stroking her hair, "what horrible things have happened to you?"_

 _He takes out another sandwich from his pocket and that quickly vanishes as well. He gives her a bottle full of sweet, weak tea and she slowly drinks it. It's still slightly warm and she savors the feeling of warmth, starting in her stomach and then slowly spreading out…_

 _She wants to thank him, but she doesn't think that she can. She's too weak and tired and happy. Now she can truly die in peace._

 _But the young man's not finished yet. He again reaches into his pocket and this time brings out a wallet, stuffed full with money—_ big _money. Hundred-dollar bills. She's seen people take them out and count them and put them back in pockets, but she's never seen one up-close. And she's never held one before—let alone about five hundred of them._

 _The man removes all of the cash in his wallet and gives it all to her. She just stares at the wealth and then looks up at him. He's still smiling at her—such a warm, loving smile!_

 _"N-No," she whispers, trying to give it back to him, "I c-can't accept this…"_

 _"But I want you to have it," he says firmly, pressing them into her cold hands. He holds them for a while, warming them up in his strong, warm gloved hands. "I want you to have it. Keep it. Buy yourself something nice. Lord knows you need it much more than I do."_

 _He laughs and she forces a laugh too, wondering what the hell they're laughing about. Then he_ again _reaches into his pocket and brings out a small white card._

 _"I confess that I had an ulterior motive to come to you," he says, handing her the card. "I saw you once—you were stealing something and the police caught you and you beat them up and ran…It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life."_

 _She wonders what's going on. She's stolen and beaten up policemen more times than she can count. She wonders which time he's talking about._

 _"If you're interested in a job," the man says, standing up, "my door is always open to you. The address is written on the back of that card…Take care, now. I eagerly look forward to our next meeting."_

 _He goes back to his car, but stops on the way. He picks up a coin from the ground, turns and smiles at her, and then kisses the coin. He gets into his car and the limousine slowly pulls away and drives off. One of the windows is rolled down and she sees the man waving to her, still smiling, as it leaves._

 _It leaves and it takes her guardian angel with it—the only person who has ever been kind to her._

 _She just sits there, dumbfounded, and then she realizes that he left his umbrella and his coat with her—but most importantly, he left the money with her._

 _And money meant_ FOOD _._

 _She staggers to her feet and runs off as fast as she can go to the closest restaurant she can find. The waiter raises an eyebrow at her tattered clothes and bare feet, but immediately starts treating her like a queen when he realizes how much money she has._

 _She's taken to a nice, private table and is given all the food that she can eat. After she's done, she sits there, thinking everything over. A part of her is still refusing to believe that it's real—that she'll wake up and she'll still be sitting on that doorstep, preparing to die. But another part is insisting—demanding—that it's real._

 _She realizes that she still has that man's card clutched in her fist. She carefully smooths it out and reads the address on the back. Then she turns it over to read the name neatly printed in elegant black letters:_

Lord Sebastian Michaelis

Nobleman. Investor. Odd-Jobs.

 _"_ Odd jobs," _she thinks._ "Rather an unusual pastime for a lord… _"_

 _But she knows that the money can't last forever, and the people at restaurants keep giving her weird looks, wondering how such a scrawny ragamuffin was suddenly in possession of thousands of dollars in cash…She realizes that she can't live like this forever…She gives the rest of the money to charity and tries to make herself as presentable as possible…Against her better judgement, she goes to the address written on the back of the card._

 _It's a mansion. The guards don't want to let her in, but she shows them the card and babbles some nonsense about what had happened to her and they grudgingly let her in._

 _She doesn't wait long—the young man that had been so nice to her arrives shortly and is simply overjoyed to see her. He offers her a job right then and there—she'll work as a kind of spy for him, brawling every now and then when the occasion calls for it. She's hesitant until he tells her how much she'll be paid: five hundred dollars a day. He offers her an apartment and tells her that he'll be paying her rent, as well as her grocery bills and living bills and pretty much everything she would otherwise worry about. Her five-hundred-dollar paycheck will essentially be used for fun, frivolous things like clothes and dolls and fancy shoes and high-class restaurants…_

 _She agrees immediately and they sign a contract that evening. The man smiles at her, like she's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life—like she's the greatest thing that has ever happened to him._

 _"By the way," he says, extending his hand, "we haven't been formerly introduced yet. My name is Sebastian Michaelis."_

 _She curtseys and shakes his hand._

 _"I'm…" she pauses. What was her name again? Did anyone ever give her a name? She doubted it; nobody really cared what her name was, so no one ever asked for it, so she never really had a need for a name…_

 _He laughs._

 _"Pick whatever name you like," he assures her. "I'm sure that whatever it is, it'll be absolutely lovely."_

 _She thinks it over and suddenly remembers a name that she read a long time ago, a name that she thought was so pretty…_

 _"Eleanora," she says firmly. "My name is Eleanora."_

 _Eleanora…_

Eleanora…

"Eleanora!" Ciel shouted and Eleanora woke up, panting and in a sweat. "Eleanora, wake up! Are you awake?"

"Obviously," she grumbled, pulling the blankets up to her ears. "What do you want? Why all the shouting at this ungodly hour?"

"It's nine in the morning and you said that we would eat once you got up," Ciel said, bouncing a bit on the bed with impatience. "And now you're awake and I'm _hungry_!"

"Fine, fine, I'll get up," Eleanora mumbled and got out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom, muttering curses under her breath.

Ciel walked to the window and looked out at Las Vegas, Nevada: the gambling center of America. It had taken them about four days to get there, and those four days were spent stressed, tired, and hungry. Eleanora had assured Ciel that she was an excellent gambler and could win a bunch of money. Then, once enough had been collected, they could go down to New Orleans and get a boat to England.

"Why don't we go to California?" Ciel had asked. "California's closer than New Orleans…"

"Because it would take longer for us to get to England on a boat from California than it would from New Orleans," she had said. "Would you rather spend several days on the ground and moving than several days on a boat which seems to just sit there?"

Ciel had agreed that he liked driving much more than he liked sailing, so it was agreed that they'd win a lot of money in Nevada and make enough to get to England in style.

Eleanora left the bathroom. She seemed distracted by something.

"Is everything alright?" Ciel asked her.

"Hm? Oh yes. I just had…a bit of a nightmare."

"Really? What about?"

"Well, it wasn't so much of a dream as it was a memory," Eleanora said.

"A memory of what?"

"Of something that can never be returned," she said darkly and they went downstairs to have breakfast.


	35. Chapter 35

There were plenty of casinos in Las Vegas. The trick was finding which one looked the most popular, because the more-popular gambling halls have more money and fewer chances to kill someone.

Eleanora knew how to gamble. She had learned everything from the master, and she was pretty good at it, but what made her _great_ was her face. Eleanora had a prime poker face; no one could tell what she was thinking; she had learned how to look absolutely bored throughout the whole game and had almost no tells.

She found the best casino, the most crowded poker game, sat down, and started playing. She had a strategy: look bored, keep raising the pot, and win. The idea was that eventually the pot would get so high that everyone else would get nervous and fold, and she would be able to win big on a bluff.

She gambled for several hours straight, accumulating as much money as she could. When the dealer would get suspicious or the players would get bloodthirsty, she would move on to another table. Eventually she had played at every table in the casino, and _everyone_ was looking quite murderous. She thought she saw the manager whisper something to security, and several buff-guys crack their knuckles, and then she knew that it was time to go.

She transferred all of her chips to cash, ran off into a dark alley in the red-light district, and quickly counted her winnings.

Then counted them again.

And then counted them again, just to really savor the feeling.

In one night, she had won enough to get them to New Orleans and a first-class trip to England.

Eleanora did a little victory dance in her alley, which earned her some weird looks from the passing prostitutes, then coldly walked back to the hotel. Happiness was suspicious, especially in places like these. If she was smiling, someone was bound to assume it was because she had—against all the odds—actually won something in Las Vegas.

But she couldn't help running up the stairs to the hotel room. She was absolutely bursting to tell the kid the good news. She barely got the key in the luck and flung the door open and rushed inside,

"Guess what! _I WON AND NOW WE CAN LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK AND WHAT THE hell is going…_ "

But by then she was already gagged and in half a second she was on the floor, with her hands being tied behind her back.

Ciel had been captured. He had also been gagged and tied up and two men were holding onto his arms. He had tried to scream and warn Eleanora to _go away, leave, run, never come back…_ But it was too late; she had been captured, just like he had been.

"Congratulations," Sebastian Michaelis said cheerfully, stepping out of the shadows. "I always knew that you would make me proud."

One of his thugs closed and locked the hotel door while two others dragged Eleanora to her feet. She was saying something unintelligible through her gag; probably swearing. Sebastian merely smiled and reclined on one of the beds.

"Did you miss me?" he said. "Did you think about me at all? I know _I_ did. Mostly about how Eleanora—poor, dear sweet Eleanora, who was absolutely _nothing_ before I came along, who rose up due to _me_ , who, if it weren't for _me,_ would be lying _dead in a ditch_ somewhere, and how this girl betrayed _me_ , her _saviour_ , and for _what_? A stupid, irritating, bratty _KID!_ " His voice had gotten angrier and louder but suddenly he calmed down again. "But that's all in the past now," he said, his voice as smooth as it always had been. "Frisk her. Make sure she's not carrying anything."

Eleanora tried not to squirm, but she was glaring daggers at the men and Michaelis, who only smiled. They found several guns and knife and, of course, the money that she had just won.

Sebastian flipped through the cash and whistled.

"Impressive," he said. "I'm so glad to have a good, _obedient_ woman serving me…" He snapped his fingers and they removed her gag.

"I _don't_ serve you," she growled. "I serve no one but myself. We used to work together and now we don't. I _quit_."

"Aw," Sebastian said mockingly, pocketing the money. "It's so cute the way you think that you can just leave me like that. We've known each other years, Eleanora," he looked up, glaring at her. "You should know by now that people don't just _leave_ me. There are contracts to be considered…Debts to be paid…" he looked murderous, "traitors to be dealt with."

Eleanora spat at him.

"I tell you what," he said casually after his men had brought her to her knees. "Because we've been together for so long, I'll make a deal with you. You've been lucky this night; shall we see if your luck holds out?" He reached into his pocket and brought out a coin. Eleanora froze.

"Remember this?" he murmured, turning it over in his fingers. "My favorite coin. I found it the very night that I talked to you…Remember that? It was raining. You looked so sad and pathetic and adorable…Just like a poor little lost kitten. I gave you a life that day, Eleanora. And now let's see if this coin shall end it."

He began flipping it to himself.

"Call it," he said, glaring at her. "If you call it right, I'll let you and the brat live until we get back to New York. If not, then I'll kill you both right here, right now, and the hotel can deal with the garbage. I'm not in the mood to clean up after my mistakes right now…" He shrugged and flipped the coin. Ciel screamed through his gag again.

But Eleanora wasn't looking at the falling coin.

She was staring at Sebastian.

"Tails," she said coldly as it landed on his hand.

He smacked the coin against his other hand, looked at it, and glared.

"Pack them up," he said icily. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where?" one of the thugs asked.

"Back to New York, you twit. Don't make me repeat myself," he growled and strode out of the room.

Then Ciel and Eleanora were in the back of the limousine, being driven back to New York City.

"Eleanora," Ciel whispered fearfully, "what are we going to do?"

"Wait," Eleanora said. "Just wait."


	36. Chapter 36

It had taken Ciel and Eleanora four days to get from New York to Las Vegas. It took them two to get back to Queens.

Sebastian hadn't stopped as much as they had. He hadn't been concerned about speed limits; they had just cruised however they pleased. When the car ran out of gas, there was always another one waiting for them, so instead of waiting, they were just tossed into another one and then they drove on. The other car would always have food and drinks for them, so they didn't have to stop for any of that either.

About halfway through the first day, after they had all taken a restroom stop, Ciel was tossed into the trunk, as usual, but Eleanora was pushed into the backseat, with Sebastian. She had scooted away from him, but he had wrapped his arm around her waist and had gently pulled her closer. At night, he had fallen asleep with his head on her lap.

Ciel wondered what had happened to Madam Red. He hoped that she had gotten back to England safely. He had promised her that he would follow behind her shortly; it had now been a week and he was _still_ in the States.

Something had happened to Sebastian's mansion. Instead of going there, they had crashed at a fancy hotel.

"What happened to your house?" Ciel asked at dinner.

"I sold it," he said simply.

"Sold it? Why?"

"They repealed prohibition," he said coldly. "Most of my money is now gone." He sighed. "I can't stay here for much longer. The police will be looking for me, and without a new scheme, I'll be losing more money than I'll be making…What to do, what to do?"

Ciel told him that he hoped that he would become a beggar as fast as possible, and then he was sent to bed without dessert. It wasn't much of a "bed;" Sebastian had just tossed some blankets and a pillow in the bathtub and had told him to "make do." Sebastian himself slept on a couch while his men slept on the floor. Eleanora had been given the bed.

They stayed in the hotel for about three days. Sebastian spent a lot of time pacing and discussing things with the Undertaker and looking very gloomy.

Then one day, Ciel was woken up in the middle of the night by someone rudely ripping the blankets off of him.

"HEY! Wh-What's going on?" he said.

Sebastian was frowning down at him.

"Get up, filth. You're going on a little trip."

Ciel was too scared to protest. Was he going to die now? Sebastian had promised that he would remain alive only until they would get to New York…And now they were in New York. He wished that he had told Madam Red more often that he loved her.

They passed the bedroom; Eleanora wasn't in the bed.

He was driven to someplace unknown; Sebastian was staring sulkily out the window; everyone was silent. Ciel still didn't know where Eleanora was and he was too afraid to ask.

They got out of the car. Ciel looked around. They were at the docks; there was a ship in the distance.

The Undertaker gave Ciel a ticket while Agni gave him all of his luggage, which had been collected from the hotel where he and Madam Red had stayed. Ciel stared down at the ticket. It was first-class, one-way passage to England.

"Wh-What? What's going on?" He looked up at Sebastian, who glared down at him.

"I'm giving you your life back," he said coldly. "Your boat leaves in thirty minutes. You'd better hurry and get on it before I change my mind."

Ciel looked at him solemnly.

"Thank you," he said and they shook hands.

"Get out and don't come back," Sebastian said.

Ciel nodded to the Undertaker and Agni, who nodded and smiled back, and then he ran as fast as he could to the ship. He wondered about Eleanora, but decided that it didn't really matter. She wasn't the kind for long goodbyes. Besides, she had been right: they _were_ alike. He was sure that she knew how grateful he was. He was positive that it was her influence that had given him this ticket. He whispered " _thank you,_ " under his breath and got on the ship.

In three hours the ship had pulled away from the harbor and was sailing towards England. Ciel watched New York slowly vanish into the distance. He would never see it again, and frankly, he never really wanted to.

The Statue of Liberty looked a bit sad to see him go. He nodded to it and blew it a kiss. Then he went below decks to his room. He was feeling a little seasick, and he wanted to find a phone so that he could call his aunt.

Sebastian Michaelis silently watched the ship pull out of New York and disappear into the horizon. He spat into the water and mumbled,

 _"Good riddance."_

The Undertaker walked up beside him. They watched the ship together.

"It was heads, wasn't it," he finally said.

"What?" Sebastian said.

"The coin. It landed on heads, didn't it."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I'm sure that you do. But you—you're just so kind that you didn't have it in you to kill that boy. And I'm sure that it never even crossed your mind to hurt Eleanora…"

"Undertaker?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up," Sebastian said coldly and strode to the limousine, where Eleanora was waiting in the backseat.

"Where to, Boss?" Agni asked, sitting in the driver's seat.

"South America," Sebastian said, putting his arm around Eleanora's shoulders.

"South America? What's down there?" the Undertaker asked, getting into the passenger's seat.

"Money," Sebastian said. "Lots and lots of it. Remember the motto, boys. Eleanora?"

"'Screw the heart; follow the money,'" Eleanora said obediently. They laughed and the car drove off, far away from New York City, where even now thousands of criminals were bewailing the fact that Prohibition had lasted a mere thirteen years, and was now gone forever.


	37. Chapter 37

_Epilogue:_

Ciel Phantomhive had arrived safely in England, where Madam Red was there to greet him and hug him and kiss him and say that he was never allowed to stay in a foreign country with a bunch of gangsters ever again. Ciel had agreed wearily. He was so tired from it all.

The scandal that had chased him out of his beloved home country had now blown over and Ciel was welcomed back with open arms. He relaxed in his mansion and decided that he would never leave again.

"But there's one thing that I don't understand," he told Madam Red one day. "There was a murder at Brooklyn _before_ we arrived in New York. What happened there? Surely _you_ weren't involved in that one too?"

"Oh, darling; didn't you know? That first so-called 'murder' was an accident. The newspapers just sold it as a murder. It was so popular that that was where I had gotten the idea to…" She shuffled around awkwardly. "Oh, darling, will you _ever_ forgive me?"

"You're already forgiven," Ciel said. "You did it for me, and besides, if you had never done it, we would still probably be rotting in New York, under the thumb of Sebastian Michaelis."

So life had returned to normal.

Abberline and Lord Randall also returned to England shortly after Ciel. They weren't at all happy, particularly Randall. He told Ciel that Sebastian and his gang had escaped, no one knew where. Nobody could find him; he hadn't left a trace; but there was still quite a lot of crime in the States that had been linked to "M." The assumption was that he was still alive and kicking, still controlling his precious underworld but from somewhere far enough so that he _still_ wouldn't be caught.

"And I used to think that _you_ were annoying," Randall had grumbled irritably.

Ciel had laughed and spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about New York—about its crime lords, William T. Spears and Ash Landers; its thugs, Grell and…What was his name again? Tammy or something; about its wonders and its dangers and all of his adventures…But mostly he thought about the supreme crime lord, Sebastian Michaelis. He wondered what he was doing now—he with his ever-faithful men and his ever-sarcastic woman, Eleanora. But it didn't matter anymore. They would never see each other again…probably.

During breakfast on some fine morn, about a month after Ciel had left New York, Madam Red was flipping through the mail while Ciel was reading the newspaper.

"Oh!"

"What is it?" She looked up.

"Apparently there's a big drug craze going through the States. It's spreading throughout the continent. No one knows who's distributing all those drugs…heroin, cocaine…What a tragedy."

"Ciel?"

"Yes, what is it?"

Madam Red looked a bit trembly.

"Th-There's a postcard for you, dear."

"Oh? Who's it from?"

"See for yourself."

She handed the card over.

It was a typical "GREETINGS FROM…" card, only it was written in some strange language, probably a version of Spanish or something. Ciel flipped it over; there was nothing written on it, only someone had attached a photo.

It was of Sebastian Michaelis, sitting in a chair, with Eleanora on his lap. His men were surrounding him, laughing at the camera, but what was most striking was all the money bags that were just lounging around them. There was a beach in the distance and everything looked rather tropical; clearly they weren't in the States anymore.

"…It's from Michaelis," Ciel said, getting over his initial shock.

"Does he want anything? Money? Power? Your eternal soul?"

"N-No…It looks like he's just gloating."

But it wasn't even that. Ciel shared a look with Madam Red and she understood, without him having to say it. It wasn't gloating. It was just a little reminder, mixed with a bit of a warning. It was a huge exclamation that said,

"I AM HERE. I AM STILL ALIVE. AND I AM STILL THE BOSS."

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please look up my other stories. Thanks again for all your attention and patience and support!_


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